Ride the Lightning
by Molly Myles
Summary: Jimmy Novak's life is a lie. He thought he had spent the last four years after meeting the Winchester brothers back in Pontiac with Claire and Ames, but now his life is turning upside down as he realizes just how wrong he is. Now, stuck with a broken angel, Jimmy tries to pick up the pieces of his life and make something of what's left with the help of Sam and Dean. S7 spoilers
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Jimmy Novak led a pretty good life.

True, it wasn't perfect. Maybe not ideal. But it was his, and he was grateful for it.

Four years ago, something had happened that had thrown all of that out of whack.

He was a man of faith. He and his family went to church every Sunday. He knew all of the Psalms and held the Lord in his heart. He was no saint, but he did his very best.

And then the angel had spoken to him.

He had thought at first he might be going insane, but the miracles that Castiel had shown him won him over, and he accepted this as one of the most incredible things that had ever happened to him. Him. Jimmy. Average guy, played poker on Thursdays, sells ad space to radio stations Jimmy Novak.

He had tried to tell his wife, Amelia, about the miracle, but she couldn't accept it as readily.

And then the ultimatum came.

Amelia had said she was going to take their daughter, Claire, and go to her mothers if he didn't stop, if he didn't take his medication, if he didn't keep seeing that quack therapist. He knew he wasn't crazy, but she didn't have faith.

Seeking guidance, he stepped out the front door of his house and prayed to Castiel, beseeching his angelic overseer to help, to show him how to survive this.

That's when the hell had begun.

The angel had asked him for one thing; to use his body as a vessel to carry out the will of God.

How could a pious man like Jimmy Novak refuse?

_Of course I understand. Just promise me my family will be safe._

He felt the angel's presence invade every synapse, taking him in part and in whole, and he found himself locked away in a corner of his own mind, not really asleep, not really awake. He just was, and there was Castiel.

He caught flashes from time to time. Demons. Angels. Horrors he couldn't describe. Beauty he couldn't define. And it all just was.

Then, out of nowhere, he felt Castiel ripped from him- their souls parting in a violent eruption of light. And then there was darkness and pain.

He didn't know how long he lay in that ruined warehouse before he heard someone calling the angel's name.

_No, it's me, it's Jimmy- Jimmy Novak..._

There was confusion. They told him he couldn't go home. They took him in that beautiful black car, bounced him into a motel room and told him his family was in danger. They told him that he had to stay with them until it was safe. How long is safe? We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

They weren't going to take him home. They were implying he might never see Ames and Claire again. It had been a year. He didn't know if they were all right, if they were waiting for him to come home...

He snuck out. Got a bus ticket. He went back home.

He never heard from Castiel or the Winchesters again.

[XXXXXX]

Four years later, he was still in Pontiac. It had taken some time- he had moved into an apartment on his own for a while, but eventually Amelia welcomed him back.

They had started slow. It was like they were meeting again for the first time, going on dates, getting to know each other. It was hard, but it was also one of the best times he could remember.

Clair had been reluctant at first. She had remembered the chilling words that Castiel had said to her before he had left, taking Jimmy out of their lives. Amelia had put her in counseling for a few months. It was rough on the kid. Her grades slipped. Other kids started picking on her as she became withdrawn.

It started turning around when he came home, though. He visited once a week at first, then more and more often until it was almost every day. After a few months, Claire would come and stay with him at the apartment most weekends. Gradually, though he had to push her, her grades started picking up again. She was still something of a recluse, and he wasn't sure about some of her choices in friends, but he had faith in her, and he knew she would make good choices with her parents' guidance.

Faith.

He wondered if he had any left.

An angel of the Lord had nearly ruined his life. Had left emotional scars on him and his family. He didn't think he wanted anything to do with God anymore.

[XXXXXX]

It took a little over a year before Amelia finally broached the subject.

"You know, Jimmy," She had said one night over dinner. "You're over all the time now. Maybe it's time... time you came home."

Jimmy nearly burst. He swept her out of her seat and he kissed her. He kissed her as though he thought she might disappear right out of his arms.

He vacated the apartment the next day.

He was finally, truly home.

Chapter One: The Good Life

Jimmy sat on the couch, flipping through the channels. Claire and Amelia had gone to church. They still went every Sunday, but Jimmy just couldn't bring himself to go.

He no longer believed in God. Angels, Heaven, Hell- sure. Those he had seen in glimpses too brief to truly recount, but he knew they existed. Castiel had proven them to him. But he hadn't proven God, and Jimmy just couldn't imagine any creature so cruel could be a creature of God.

He didn't hate Castiel. He only barely resented him. The angel was a single-minded creature, a warrior. He didn't fault him anymore than he faulted bees for stinging. But that didn't mean he ever wanted to be stung again. Once was enough, and he washed his hands of it.

Christmas season was coming up and the office was getting busier and busier, negotiations had started for prime air time slots. It was tedious work, and Jimmy had thought about changing gears more than once since he got back, but he didn't hate his job. It was secure, if anything else. They liked him there.

Flipping through the endless channels of nothing, Jimmy paused in the low three hundreds, straining at the screen.

It was strange, like some kind of reality show. He saw the water approaching, and then the camera seemed to submerge- and then there was static, followed by nothing. The television had just turned itself off...

He frowned at the remote, clicking it back on, but there was nothing but 'NO SIGNAL' on the top left corner of the screen.

Dismissing it as technology being technology, he kept surfing.

An hour later he heard the car pull up out front, followed by Claire and Amelia chatting as they came in the front door.

Jimmy smiled and got himself up off the couch.

He was still in his pajamas and bore the weekender scruff proudly. This had become his ritual. He was no longer a pious man, and no longer saw a reason to shave on Sundays.

"Hey," He beamed at them, hugging Claire and then kissing Amelia. "How was service?"

"Everyone misses you, you know," Amelia kissed him back. "I know we've talked about it, but you should at least come to Sunday Brunch some time. Think about it. Reverend Cooke would love to see you."

Jimmy just smiled at her and ruffled Claire's purple and pink hair, just to annoy her. That was his right, afterall. He was her dad. Can't be cool all the time.

"Daaad," Claire groaned, unmussing the short tangle. She'd taken to wearing it spiked since she'd entered highschool, but on Sundays she just clipped it back.

"Dinner's on me tonight. What do you say we go out?"

Amelia smiled. "I thought you didn't find out about that contract until Tuesday?"

Jimmy just grinned at her. "It's in the bag, Ames. Besides, it doesn't have to be anything super fancy, I just want to treat my favourite girls."

Amelia leaned up and kissed him, bristling his scruff with her fingertips.

"Yeah, yeah. How's five sound?"  
"Sounds good," Amelia replied, smiling at her husband.

The afternoon went as it usually did. Amelia talked to Jimmy about the morning's service. It was a compromise they'd come to. Jimmy didn't go to church, in return he took his medication and after service Amelia gave him the brief while Claire texted, or Facebooked, or whatever it is teenagers do on Sunday afternoons.

They went out to dinner, fancier than he'd led on, but not a five-star establishment or anything, a casual yet classy Italian bistro in town.

They chatted and laughed as they ate. It was just so good to be doing this, being with his family. He could almost forget that any of it ever happened- Castiel, the Apocalypse, the warehouse and the heartbreaking months that followed as he struggled to put his life back together. If there was a God in Heaven still, then this was the one good thing he had done for Jimmy. Allowing him to take this back.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy stood in front of the mirror in his pajamas, squeezing minty fresh paste onto his brush. He turned on the water, letting the stream glance over the bristles before he stuck it in his mouth, going through the morning routine.

He finished, splashing cold water over his face and then toweled off, looking into the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

What he saw staring back caused the pit of his stomach to drop, and he flew back with a startled cry- knocking the towel rack off the wall.

He stared at the mirror, but all he saw was his own terrified reflection staring back at him, wide-eyed and harried looking.

But for a moment, just a moment, he swore he had seen himself in that old black suit and trench coat he had burned when he came home.

[XXXXXX]

Days went by. After the incident with the mirror, Jimmy went to see his psychiatrist. He only went to see him once a month, or sometimes every other month. He didn't feel like he needed a shrink- not any more- but he needed to keep up on his medication. It kept the nightmares at bay.

Doctor Raymond had suggested he may be stressed, or there was some sort of trigger that was causing the hallucinations. He had told Doctor Raymond about the mirror, and the television as well. The strange vision of a camera being submerged and the T.V. switching itself off.

He was told to come back if they kept happening.

Nothing else happened. Not for months.

It was March. Amelia's birthday was next week and her parents were coming to visit from Chicago for the weekend.

He was in the kitchen- it was his night to cook.

He stood at the counter slicing vegetables with Claire. It was a special occasion, her new boyfriend was coming over tonight. He was happy for her, she'd been so closed off other than a few close friends. It was good that she was taking an interest in someone.

It struck out of nowhere.

One moment he was standing at the counter, the next he was in front of what looked like some sort of hospital, or institution, walking towards a group of people. It was night, and the people were staring at him. He could feel the old familiar weight of the trench coat on his shoulders. He saw his hand reach out, though he willed it not to. He saw the look of fear in the other man's eyes, and then the flash of light that poured out of the man's eyes, ears, nose and mouth as the man fell dead at his feet. He felt himself pause, and he looked at his own hand, as though confused by it...

_This is right..._

_No, it isn't!_

Jimmy began to panic. He opened his mouth to scream, and then-

He was back in the kitchen.

He was on the floor.

He was screaming.

Amelia was at his side.

Claire was at the counter, looking frightened.

What the _hell_ was going on?

(**Note- **This idea was clawing to get out. We'll see where it goes. I'm still going to finish Corpus Verto (It's almost done!), but this is going to be my next project of character torment. Muahaha.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Helter Skelter

Jimmy sat on the couch with his face in his hands.

Amelia set beside him, rubbing small circles between his shoulders.

He still couldn't stop shaking. The hallucination, if it even was a hallucination, had been intense, strong. It was so utterly convincing. Slowly, he removed his hands and inhaled deeply.

"I'm okay, Ames," he told his wife. "Really, I'll be fine. I just," Just what? Had a moment of psychosis? Lost touch with reality? Lapsed into another dimension?

Hah. That would go over well.

He hadn't told her about the other incidents. Or about the dreams, though the medication had helped with the dreams. The mirror incident he'd played off as though he'd slipped on the tile floor. But this, he didn't think he was getting out of it.

"It's happening again, isn't it," Amelia asked quietly.

"No! No, just..." He sighed. "I'm fighting it. I promise you I'm fighting it."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to sort through his head.

"How long?"

He looked at her, almost asking what she meant, but he knew.

"October. Just, little things.. little snatches here and there.. never... Never like this. This was... It's like the scenery changed and I was somewhere else for a moment."

Amelia nodded quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I'm not going to let it happen again, Ames," He plied, leaning forward to coax her eyes to his. When he had them, he wished he hadn't. She looked like she was going to cry, and it broke his heart. "I promise, okay? I'll skip work tomorrow and go see Doctor Raymond first thing. I promise."

She let him when he tilted her chin up to kiss her. That was a good thing.

They'd come too far to screw this up now.

"Come on. I'm feeling fine, now. I'm gonna go take my meds early, then I'm gonna finish making dinner before David gets here."

Amelia smiled a bit more, seeming comforted but still concerned. "All right. Jimmy,"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too."

[XXXXXX]

Dinner wasn't a disaster.

In fact, Jimmy thought, it went pretty darned well.

By the time the doorbell had rung, Claire and Ames had all but forgotten about Jimmy's incident in the kitchen.

He still felt shaken himself, but meeting David was an honest to goodness pleasure, and he was proud of Claire for finding such a smart, considerate boy to open her heart to. The kid even stayed to help clean up after dinner.

Jimmy approved.

The kids had retreated up to Claire's room (door open, and don't act all offended when your mom or I come up to check on you guys every few minutes), and Jimmy sat on the couch with Amelia in front of the dark television, just being with each other.

Amelia sighed softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I wish you'd said something sooner," she said finally. So there it was.

"I know," Jimmy replied. "I thought I could get it under control... it isn't like the last time though, I promise. I know it isn't real," he lied through his teeth. He knew damn well it was real the last time. But the only way he could get back into his wife's good graces was to weave an elaborate story of having spent time in in-patient treatment, purging Castiel from his mind.

He was okay with being crazy for her, if it meant that he could be with her again.

But now, now he wasn't sure. It really _wasn't_ like last time.

Last time, Castiel had spoken to him about God, and about bloodlines, and how special Jimmy was. He had shown Jimmy miracles.

This time... Jimmy wasn't sure he really wasn't going crazy.

"I know, baby," Amelia soothed. "I'll go with you tomorrow."

"Thanks. I'd like that."

He put his arms around her, and they just stayed that way until David's parents came to pick him up.

[XXXXXX]

"I want you to tell me more about this 'vision', Jimmy."

Jimmy sat in the overstuffed armchair in Doctor Raymond's office. They'd started with the usual banter; the latest NCAA scores, how were Claire and Amelia, how was he handling his medication, all the usual stuff.

Jimmy sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"It was like, one moment I was talking to Claire," Jimmy started. "And then I was walking through this parking lot. There were these... people there. Only they weren't people, I could see through them, like their faces were transparent and I was seeing underneath, these rotting... _things_. Corrupted, evil... I walked up to one of them, and I put my hand over his face, like this- and then there was a light and the guy just dropped dead... and then I was back home."

Doctor Raymond nodded, making a few quick notes. "And how did you feel, after the vision?"

"I was terrified. I felt... I thought I was actually _there_ for a minute, that I was..."

"Did you think you were Castiel?"

"... No."

"Are you sure?"

"I thought I was his prisoner. Heh."

"His prisoner?" Doctor Raymond raised an eyebrow.

"It was... they were my hands, and... I saw from his perspective. But it wasn't _me _who laid hands on the demon- it was _him_. And I couldn't _do_ anything but watch," Jimmy sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Is this the first time you've experienced a full-body hallucination since you were released?"

Jimmy had gone to pretty extensive lengths to cover his story. As far as anyone he knew was concerned, Castiel had been a psychotic break, and his mind had been clouded for a time. In that version, he had been picked up in Chicago and taken to a hospital, where he'd been put in an in-patient facility as a John Doe.

"Yeah, it is. And it scares the hell out of me..."

Doctor Raymond nodded, taking his time to pick up a notepad from his desk and write something on it before tearing the sheet off, handing it to Jimmy.

"I'm going to raise your dosage, Jimmy. It may take some time to adjust, but I'm hoping it will help with the hallucinations. I want you to keep me informed of anything, and I mean _anything_ that doesn't seem right to you."

"Yes, I understand. Thank you, Doctor Raymond."

"I also want you to take some time off from work and try to relax."

Jimmy nodded. He didn't really want to take time off, but he supposed after last night it was warranted.

[XXXXXX]

On the third day of Jimmy's doctor-ordered vacation, Amelia finally stopped fussing over him and decided to go shopping for some essentials, leaving Jimmy to fend for himself for a few hours.

She was mothering him, and that was okay. At least she was still there, and it gave him a sense of well-being, and it made him smile to think that even though his 'illness' had reared up again, she was willing to put up with it because he was trying.

He had puttered around the house for a while, doing a few chores, and was now seated on the couch, flipping through the channels as was his custom.

He wasn't really interested in watching, it was just something to do while he waited for Amelia to come home.

Jimmy frowned, pausing on some fishing show. He could hear something, but he couldn't quite place what it was- a high-pitched sound, piercing, and it was getting louder. It reached a pitch and he thought his ears would start bleeding, and then there was a sort of... ping! And it was over.

Dropping the remote, he got up to go into the den where he kept his journal. He had almost made it to the door when-

Suddenly he was laying on his back in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

Looking to his left, he saw a woman sitting beside him, flipping through a magazine.

She was a nurse, he realised- her name tag said that her name was Meg Masters. She had brown hair that fell in soft curls over her shoulders, framing a soft, pretty face. Only... no. Something shifted beneath her skin, almost seen beneath the mask of the flesh she wore. He couldn't really make out any details, but...

Jimmy lurched off the bed, putting as much distance between himself and the demon as possible, trying to squeeze himself into the corner while he searched the room for options.

Meg lifted her eyes slowly, seeming amused and maybe only a little surprized.

"Mornin', Clarence. Sleep well?" She turned the page, smiling at him.

He stood there, in the corner, staring at her for a long moment. When she didn't attack him, he looked to the door, then back again.

"Probably not the best idea," She smiled. "I'm supposed to give your boyfriend a call when you wake up."

Jimmy blinked at her. "My... _excuse _me?"

Meg raised an eyebrow up at him, nonplussed. "My, my. Your eggs are really scrambled, aren't they angel-boy?"

Jimmy frowned, glancing around the room again. It looked like a hospital room. It even had that smell of antiseptic and iodine. He wore a band on his wrist that proclaimed his name to be 'John Doe'. That's about when the panic settled over him.

"No, no no no... this is all wrong..."

Meg had pulled out a cell phone while he examined himself and was now on the line with someone. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he could only imagine it had to do with him.

He almost screamed when she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Come on," she coaxed. "Back to bed, doctor's orders. Dean-o and Sammy'll be here in a couple of hours."

"D-Dean? Sam?" He recognized the names, but for some reason it just wasn't coming to him. "Where the hell am I?"

Meg gave him a searching look once she'd gotten him back onto the thin mattress.

"I was just," this was too crazy. "I was just in my living room..."

"Really," she mused. "And just who are you supposed to be, then?"

Jimmy eyed her. He could still see her, what she really was, lurking just beneath the surface of that pretty face. He knew he'd be an idiot to trust her. But this was just an illusion, a hallucination... wasn't it?

"Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?"

"Jimmy," he gave in. "Jimmy Novak."

[XXXXXX]

It was too surreal. He had given in to the idea that Meg had no intention of hurting him. When the doctor came in to check up on them and chat with Meg, he saw nothing beneath his face. Somehow he knew that the stout white haired man was pure human. He was curious, though. Even though he knew this was a hallucination, it just didn't make sense. Demons were evil. Why would his subconscious insist that this woman meant him no harm?

For the last hour he had tried to pry something out of her, any sort of information. He knew now that he was supposedly at the Northern Indiana State Hospital psych ward and, according to his demon nurse, has been for several days. Upon looking out the window, he realised, this was the same hospital he'd been in front of during his last hallucination, when he- when Castiel had killed the demon with a touch.

When he asked about Castiel, Meg looked surprized, but didn't answer his question, telling him things might make more sense when his friends got here.

"What friends?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough."

He knew he probably shouldn't be talking to his hallucinations, but it was too real and it was freaking him out. Talking helped ease that tension a bit and kept him from losing it. When it got too quiet he felt like he was going to just start screaming until his lungs fell out.

"Why aren't you, you know," Jimmy asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Trying to tear my eyes out or something?"

Meg gave him a bemused smile. "I promised Dean-o I'd keep an eye on you, and that's what I'm doing. Besides, you're just adorable when you're asleep. As pretty as those blue eyes are I doubt he'd appreciate it too much."

Jimmy felt his face flush. He didn't like the idea of this demon woman watching over him while he slept.

_She's toying with you._

Jimmy paused. It was weak, and he didn't so much hear as _sensed _it. It was exactly like before, only quieter, distant. But that was definitely Castiel's voice.

"Just great," he muttered.

_She won't hurt you. They wouldn't let her hurt you._

"I can't hear you, go away," Jimmy ordered, scowling.

Meg looked at him curiously, but Castiel had gone quiet.

Twenty minutes later, he remembered abruptly why the names 'Dean-o and Sammy' sounded familiar.

The shorter of the two, Dean, was staring at him from the doorway- a look of awe and relief etched onto his features. The other, Sam, stood just behind his brother, looking uncertain.

"Oh, God. It's you two..." Jimmy put his face in his hands, exhaling his misery.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean took a step toward him tentatively, almost like he was afraid Jimmy would fly away.

Jimmy let out a bitter chuckle. "No, but thanks for clearing that up for me," he snarked. "Been a while."

Dean stared at him for a long time before it finally clicked. "_Jimmy?_"

Jimmy gave him a weak smile. "Mind filling me in on what the _hell _is going on?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Brain Damage

The two hunters stood there, staring at him as though he had grown a second head.

Jimmy sighed. "You know what, never mind. I don't want to know."

Dean looked at his brother, and then Meg, before looking back at him. "Uh, Jimmy," he tried, rolling his name as though he couldn't quite grasp the moniker. "You're uh, you're supposed to be _dead._"

"Oh," Jimmy said, giving Dean a look of mock revelation. "That explains everything. Thanks, genius."

Dean scowled at him. "Hey, don't get your tie in a knot, man. Just relaying the facts."

"Look," Jimmy said. "I know you're not really there, okay? I'm hallucinating. And I _really _don't need this right now." He laid back down on the bed, closing his eyes. "I'm probably just, unconscious or something. Or talking to a wall."

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look.

_You should talk to them. They can help you._

"I don't want to talk to them," Jimmy murmured half aloud.

_Perhaps I should speak with them, then. I can explain the situation to Dean._

"Whatever, just leave me alone."

He hadn't intended to, but suddenly Jimmy found himself sitting upright in the bed. He felt as though he had been shoved back at the same time, and discovered with no small amount of anger that he was no longer in control of himself. He willed himself to lay back down, but it wasn't happening.

_Castiel you son of a bitch..._

"Hello, Dean," his mouth said, but it wasn't his voice.

The worried look on Dean's face deepened. "...Cas?"

Castiel grinned up at the hunter. "It is good to see you." He turned to look at Sam and the smile fell away. "Sam. I am very, very sorry."

Jimmy wanted to rail at him, panicking and irritated at the angel. He sensed something wrong, as well. When Castiel had taken control, he felt it like a weight on his body. _I shouldn't even be conscious,_ he mused. When he had the vision of Castiel smiting the demon, he hadn't felt this. It was as though the longer the angel had control, the greater the toll it took on him. Jimmy suspected idly that the being was wounded in some way.

"Dean," Castiel turned to the elder Winchester again, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing, swaying a bit on his feet. He extended his index finger toward the man, giving him a severe look. "I need you to pull my finger."

Dean's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement, glancing at the others in the room. When Sam returned a nearly identical look, invalidating Dean's suspicions that he was being left out of some joke, he turned back to Castiel. "What?"

"My finger. I need you to pull it."

Dean gave him a searching look, and Jimmy suddenly had a bad feeling when the hunter took his finger and pulled on it.

An instant later, every light in the room spontaneously shattered in a shower of sparks and broken glass.

Dean pulled his hand back, shielding himself from the debris with his arms.

"Jeez!" Sam looked to Dean, as though he had somehow caused this.

Castiel grinned, letting out a short, gutteral laugh.

_What the HELL was that?!_

"It was a joke," Castiel responded to Jimmy aloud.

Meg raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

The joke had apparently taken its toll on him, however, as he wavered and fell back. Jimmy felt a sense of relief as he found himself in control again, reaching back to catch himself on the edge of the bed. He felt light-headed, and almost lost his footing before two pairs of hands caught his arms from either side, hauling him back up and helping him into bed.

"Cas," Dean said. "You all right? What the hell was that?"

Jimmy shook his head, trying to clear the fog.

"I may be crazy," he mused grimly, looking up at the worried faces hovering over him. "But I think he's lost his mind..."

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy lay there quiet for a time, contemplating the situation he'd woken up to. He knew it was a hallucination. There was no way this was real. He willed himself to wake up, but he was just too deeply engrossed in it to pull out. He wondered if maybe he was still in the hall, unconscious, or if Ames had found him there. Was he in a hospital? Was he awake, babbling to people who weren't there?

He opened his eyes, and saw two faces looming down at him.

"I'm just," Meg said, glancing observing state of the now-dark room. "I'll go get a new light bulb."

"You want to know how I know this isn't real," he addressed the room.

Dean frowned down at him, crossing his arms.

"Your demon friend. I met the Winchesters once, you know. They wouldn't be hanging out with a demon."

Dean looked at his brother, raising an amused, almost accusatory eyebrow. Sam didn't look pleased and gave his brother a look that could only be described as a 'bitch-face' before huffing and turning away.

"How did you know she was a demon," Dean asked, giving him a searching look.

Jimmy shrugged. "Same way I know this isn't real, I guess."

Dean let out a frustrated sigh.

Jimmy opened his eyes, sighing softly. It had been hours. He should have snapped out of it by now, and the thought worried him. Was this it? Was he officially insane?

Shaking the thought, he made up his mind.

The strain that Castiel's brief possession had taken on him had faded significantly since the angel had, as far as Jimmy could tell, passed out.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Well, it's been a pleasure hallucinating you," he regarded the brothers as he stood up. "But I think I'll be going now."

He started toward the door, not caring that he had nothing on his feet, or that he was currently wearing only a pair of grey sweat pants and a white v-neck shirt that just screamed 'I'm a mental patient!'

"Woah," Dean said. "I don't think so..."

Sam put his hands up in a halting gesture, moving up beside his brother. "I think right now you should probably stick with us, until we get this figured out..."

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "No thanks." He made a line for the door.

Dean reached out for his arm to pull him back, and Jimmy gave him a firm shove away.

What he hadn't intended, however, was to send the hunter flying into the opposite wall.

"Dean!" Sam turned away from Jimmy, going to his brother's (unrequested) aid.

The elder Winchester griped and shoved him away as he attempted to untangle himself and get back on his feet.

Jimmy didn't wait around to see what happened next, opting instead to make a run for it.

[XXXXXX]

"What the crap," Dean gasped.

Sam reached down to help him up and Dean swatted him away as he pulled himself upright.

"I'm _fine_," he snapped.

"Dean," Sam said, looking toward the door. "He's running away..."

"Shit," Dean swore. "Stay here, I'll go get him..."

Dean was out the door. He saw the door to the fire stairs closing behind the confused man (angel?) down the hall and ran after him, barreling through the door. He didn't know what the hell was going on, if it was really Jimmy, or if somehow Castiel had developed multiple personalities. It wasn't too much of a longshot. After all, up until recently he had thought his name was Emanuel and he'd been living with some chick, being a faith healer and thinking he was human. 'Jimmy's sudden outburst of super-strength seemed to support the latter theory.

"Jimmy!" He called out as he entered the stairwell. He looked down over the railing and saw Jimmy already a couple of floors down, flying down the stairs. "Crap. Jimmy! Wait up!"

He took the stairs three and four at a time, catching up with him on the first floor landing.

Grabbing the back of his shirt, he spun the escapee and pushed him against the wall next to the door, pinning him there by his narrow shoulders.

"Hey," he all but yelled into the shorter man's face. "Hey! Listen to me."

"I just want to wake up," Jimmy stammered. "I don't need this crap... Things are finally going _well_, got that? I put all this shit behind me! Amelia and I... we're doing good... and Claire... I just want to go home..."

Dean stared at him in disbelief. Had Cas just stuck him in the back of his own mind, concocting some fake world where Jimmy had thought he was back home this whole time? He found himself angry at Castiel, and sympathetic towards the man freaking out in front of him.

"Hey," Dean sighed. It probably wasn't a good idea, but he decided to go for it anyway. "Look, I really hate to be the one to tell you this, but, uh..." Dean searched for a moment, trying to be delicate. "Seriously, man, we thought you were supposed to be dead. Don't you remember the warehouse? The demons had your wife and kid? You got shot, dude. You were dying. Cas... Cas came back, he took your daughter... and he was going to take your wife somewhere safe... and, well, you _begged_ him to take you back instead."

"What," Jimmy looked confused, stricken, like he was almost there but something wasn't quite connecting.

"Hey, man. I'm sorry, but that's what happened. You've been riding shotgun."

The colour drained out of Jimmy's face as he slid down the wall.

"Crap," Dean sighed. "Way to go, Dean."

He hauled the now unconscious vessel of his friend up and took him back to his room.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy opened his eyes slowly, laying on his back in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

Looking to his left, he saw a woman sitting beside him, flipping through a well-worn bible.

She had medium blonde hair, falling straight over her slender shoulders. She looked like she'd been crying. Amelia. His wife.

Jimmy didn't know what was real anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

(**A/N- **If anyone is curious about the chapter titles, they're all song titles that I felt fit the mood of each section. Chapter 1, The Good Life, is taken from the song of the same name by OneRepublic, Chapter 2, Helter Skelter is from the titular Beatles song, and Chapter 3, Brain Damage is taken from Pink Floyd, Chapter 4 is from a song by the indie group Crystal Fighters. Should I put in a little source info from now on so you guys can see what's running through my head with the chapter titles?)

Chapter 4: Home

Jimmy was afraid to move.

He was afraid if he moved, the world would shatter and he would find himself back in that room with the Winchesters and the demon. A world where Castiel still had him by the balls and he didn't have Amelia and Claire waiting for him. A world that didn't fit in the neat confines of normal, where the voice of an angel of the Lord spoke to him in his mind and hijacked his body when it felt like it.

"Jimmy?" Amelia spoke his name softly.

He turned to look at her. He could feel his eyes stinging, his vision clouding. He felt so utterly helpless and lost.

He wanted to reach up and touch her face, tell her he was all right.

But he wasn't all right. He was afraid if he touched her she really would disappear, because this might all be an illusion.

"Jimmy," she repeated. "You're awake, thank God. How are you feeling?"

Jimmy swallowed, looking back to the ceiling.

Amelia sighed, setting the bible on the stand beside the hospital bed. "The doctors say you had a seizure," she said. "They weren't sure you were going to wake up."

A seizure. Then he had been unconscious. Or was he unconscious now, hallucinating this?

The things that Dean had said, how Castiel had come back to claim him after he had been mortally wounded (_Seriously, man, we thought you were supposed to be dead..._), he wasn't so sure. He didn't remember it that way, but who was to say that Castiel hadn't screwed with his head to make him forget?

"How long have I been here," Jimmy asked finally, still staring at the ceiling.

"About five hours," Amelia said softly. "When I got home and I saw you," She reached over and took his hand, taking a deep breath to steel herself. He didn't mind, and squeezed her fingers gently. "I thought I'd lost you..."

Jimmy managed a faint smile. He wished he could say something, anything that he believed in that would console her. The time pretty much matched the time he'd been... dreaming? It was disconcerting to say the least.

"So," he said, wetting his lips. "When do I get out of here?"

[XXXXXX]

The hospital ended up keeping him overnight for observation.

While he had been out, the doctor had ordered an MRI to see if there was anything going on that might have caused to so-called attack.

To everyone's frustration, they found nothing.

Finally, at four-thirty the following morning, they released him to go home. Amelia had stayed up with him the whole time.

Jimmy was leaning his head against the window while Amelia drove. He had spent much of the time just thinking, and it was wearing on him.

Amelia kept glancing at him. He could see the worry in her eyes, but she took his silence as a cue and let him be for the time being.

He'd kept silent about the dream. It had seemed so real, and he still wasn't sure it hadn't been. He wasn't that creative, if he was honest with himself. He wasn't sure he could imagine up that kind of hallucination.

Every one of his senses was at war, saying that both realities were the real thing.

Jimmy wasn't buying it. One of these was a hallucination. He only hoped it wasn't this one.

He didn't want to sleep. The last thing he wanted was to wake up again in the company of the Winchesters with an insane angel stuck in his head.

As they pulled up in front of the house, Jimmy frowned.

He didn't know of any dog owners on their block, but he swore he could hear dogs, a lot of dogs, howling and whining all around him.

He went rigid as the air changed and the interior of the car gave way to what looked like a kennel, at least a dozen dogs- all greyhounds, he noted- were crated all around him. Through what looked like a large barn door, he saw a looping track. It was full daylight, and on the other side of the track he saw a group of dogs chasing a stuffed rabbit.

Frowning, he realised he was now wearing his old beige trench coat, the one he thought he had burned. He was still wearing the hospital smock and drawstring sweats, and was now wearing a pair of hard soled slippers as well. The worst part? He wasn't even all that bothered by the transition anymore, he realized with resignation.

_These dogs. They are very unhappy._

Jimmy almost jumped at hearing Castiel's voice in his mind.

"Ugh. Of course you're still there..."

Searching his pockets, he found an older pre-paid flip phone. Opening it, he found three contacts saved on it.

He looked around, searching for any indication of where he might be. The kennels all had tags on them with names and addresses. He leaned in to study them, and most of them had one thing in common.

Perth.

He was in freaking Australia?

"What the hell," he breathed. "What happened?"

_Hester. She tried to take the prophet._

"I'm not even going to try and understand that. How did we get here?"

_We were... banished. Why are these dogs unhappy... they chase the rabbit around and around..._

Jimmy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was in freaking Australia with an insane angel stuck in his head as his only company.

Feeling lost and vulnerable, he punched the second number on the speed dial.

"Castiel," the lilting, feminine voice on the other end of the line asked.

"No," Jimmy sighed. "Look, I'm not sure who else to call. I'm in," he floundered for a moment, still not entirely certain he wanted to entertain this whole thing or just sit down and wait it out again. "I'm in Perth."

"Perth?" Meg sounded more than a little amused.

"Perth? As in _Australia?_" Jimmy grimaced as he heard Dean's voice from somewhere near Meg.

_Ask her about the dogs. She would know about the dogs._

"Shut up a minute..."

"What, Jimmy?"

"Nothing, not you."

Jimmy started pacing back and forth. He realised this was agitating the dogs, but a moment later he noticed that this was going to end up being the least of his problems, as it appeared that someone had noticed him, and now there was a security guard at the door.

"Right," Meg said. "Listen, we're on highway 94, North of St. Cloud, Minnesota. We're just passing mile marker 79."

"... Did you miss the part where I told you I was in _Australia_?"

_I can handle this._

Without warning, Jimmy found himself sitting between Meg and some kid.

Naturally, he kept his cool and screamed like a girl. Naturally, this startled the kid, and then he wasn't the only one who screamed.

Dean jerked the wheel with a start. "Jesus! What the, Cas!" He glared back over his shoulder reproachfully at Jimmy once he had corrected the wheel and_ not_ crashed them into the guard rail or oncoming traffic.

"Question is," Meg smiled. "Do we find ourselves in the company of Castiel, or Jimbo?"

"Jimmy," he corrected.

_Oh good. They have the prophet._

Jimmy looked at the kid next to him.

He couldn't have been more than sixteen, seventeen at most, and he was clutching a duffel bag to his chest as though it were a lifeline. He seemed to be trying to disappear behind his unruly mop of hair. Jimmy sympathised.

"_Jimmy,_" Meg said, a lilting, almost mocking tone to her words. "This is Kevin Tran."

The kid, Kevin, eyed him dubiously. "Are you one of the angels?"

"No," Jimmy scowled, suddenly irritated again.

"So, uh," Dean said, clearing his throat. "Is Cas there with you?"

Jimmy frowned. "What? Why would you ask that..."

"You were talking to him in the ward," Meg offered helpfully.

Jimmy suddenly felt very claustrophobic, wedged between a demon and a 'prophet of the Lord'.

"... I think I'm gonna be sick..."

Dean looked back at him, his face a mask of horror, and suddenly he jerked the wheel, pulling over on the side of the highway. "OUT! Not in the car!"

"Jeez, Dean!" Sam complained. "It's not even the freaking Impala!"

"I don't care Sammy. This guy's not puking in the car. I will _not _live with that smell, so help me God..."

"Come on, Tiger," Meg opened the door, helping him out of the car. She stood by him while he dry heaved a few times, rubbing small, comforting circles against his back.

After a moment, Jimmy leaned back against the side of the car, not sure yet if he wanted to get back into it.

It was raining lightly, and the cool water felt good on his face.

"You okay, kid?" Meg stood watching him. Sam and Dean were having an animated conversation inside the car, but he couldn't hear what they were saying through the closed doors.

"No," he admitted. "No, I'm not okay. This," he gestured wildly. "This is not okay."

Meg tilted her head to the side, regarding him for a moment. "Want me to sit bitch in the back seat?"

Jimmy blinked at her. "What?"

Meg smiled slowly. "You seemed a little claustrophobic in the middle."

He watched her for a moment, trying to figure her out.

"Why are you so nice," he asked finally.

"End of the world prospects," she explained. "With Leviathan running around, humans aren't the only ones with their asses on a spit. Call it an alliance of self-preservation."

Jimmy frowned. Leviathan... had he heard that before? Something about the water... his vision, back when this had all started.

"Except you don't know about any of that," she mused. "Do you?"

Jimmy shook his head, feeling out of his depth.

"Come on," she took his arm, leading him back to the car door. "I'm sure the idea of sitting on the side of the road is even less appealing than sitting bitch in a car full of crazy."

Jimmy had to admit, she had a point there.

He got back into the car, but this time he took the window seat. He really didn't want to sit bitch.

It unsettled him, though, that he'd found himself back in this version of reality, and it didn't really unsettle him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Wheel in the Sky

Dean was glaring at the windshield, knuckles white on the wheel while they waited for Jimmy to finish sicking it out. He didn't like the idea of Meg being alone with the guy out there, but he didn't feel much like getting out of the car at the moment.

He was vaguely aware of Sam watching him from the passenger seat.

"Feel like talking about it yet?" Sam just wouldn't let it go.

"No, Sammy. I don't," Dean replied, releasing his death grip on the wheel and settling back with a sigh.

"Are we seriously going to drag him around with us like this," Sam continued anyway. "He's out of his mind, what are we going to do with him when we go after Dick?"

"I dunno, Sammy. We'll figure something out."

Sam continued staring at him, as though he was expecting a different answer.

"What? I get it, okay! The dude's off his gourd. BOTH of them. I don't know, okay?"

"Dean," Sam said in that pissy tone he got into when Dean was being stubborn. "Someone's going to have to keep an eye on him. Do you think that's really, you know, Jimmy? What if he tries to go back to Illinois?"

Sam had a good point. Not only was the dude crazy, but he thought- or maybe he was- Jimmy Novak. The last time they'd met Jimmy, he'd ditched them in a motel when Sam had his back turned and high-tailed it back to Pontiac to find his family.

Problem was, not only was Cas apparently off his rocker after taking on Sam's psychosis, Jimmy didn't seem a whole lot saner, thinking that he was hallucinating or some crap. The last thing they, or Jimmy's family, for that matter, was for Cas to show up on their doorstep after being MIA for the better part of four years claiming to be Jimmy Novak.

Hell, even if it _was_ actually Jimmy, it still didn't seem like a very good idea to Dean.

Twice now, the Jimmy side of the coin had appeared to do things that as far as Dean knew only Cas could do. First, in the hospital, Jimmy had thrown him into a wall. Now, Dean wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, but he was pretty sure a guy who had to weigh less than 170 shouldn't be able to knock him on his ass like that. And then, just a few minutes ago, Jimmy had bamfed into the freakin' back seat. Sure, the guy seemed startled, but there was no way that plain old vanilla Jimmy could have pulled that move.

Dean was itching to figure out what the hell was going on with Cas, but at the same time he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Did it mean there was more wrong with Cas than just his melon turning to mush?

"I dunno, Sam," Dean sighed. "It's possible? I mean, we don't even know how this crap works. Maybe when Cas took your crazy, something broke in there and Jimmy got out somehow."

Sam looked out the side window, looking instantly guilty. He was probably thinking this was somehow his fault, Dean reasoned.

"Hey," Dean said, waiting until Sam turned back to him to continue. "Cas brought this crap on himself, got it? He's the one who screwed with your head."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. Dean hated it when he pulled this shit.

A moment later the back door opened and Meg climbed in, followed by Jimmy.

"We should hit a Wal-mart," Meg said as Dean pulled back onto the highway.

Dean glanced at her incredulously in the rear-view mirror. "Why," he snorted. "Run out of tampons or something?"  
Meg gave him a withering look. "No, wise-ass. I figured we'd stop and get your friend here a change of clothes- unless you think it's a good idea to let him run around looking like he just escaped from an institution?" She arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for a smartass response.

Dean glared at her in the mirror, but he couldn't really argue. Cas probably wouldn't have complained, but Cas wasn't here at the moment, apparently, and they were just going to have to deal with that. "Fine."

[XXXXXX]

It was almost dawn by the time they reached the ramshackle cabin. Jimmy knew he should be exausted, but for some reason he just wasn't.

When they arrived, he had gratefully changed into a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt and the pair of black hiking boots that Dean had bought for him at the twenty-four hour Wal-mart they'd found a few towns back.

When he returned to the main room of the cabin, Sam and Dean were busy drawing some sort of symbols on the walls and doors.

_Wards. They're ensuring that Hester and Inias won't be able to find us._

Jimmy gave a slight shudder, more at the fact that, he realised, he was getting used to Castiel speaking to him.

"Will that work," he found himself asking aloud.

_It should. Oh, though they should probably avoid putting up any angel-proofing sigils, or we'll be expelled, too._

Dean turned to look Jimmy up and down as he finished drawing a sigil above the door.

"I hope so," he said. For a moment Jimmy wasn't sure if Dean was talking to him, but then he remembered that the hunter couldn't hear Castiel.

"Oh," Jimmy said, looking around at the symbols on the walls. He couldn't explain it, but he thought he understood some of them. "Uh," he said, feeling foolish and completely insane. "Castiel says you should probably leave off the angel-proofing or he'll get banished, too."  
Dean gave him a long, searching look that made him squirm under the weight of it.

"So," he said, moving on to the next patch of wall and dragging the thick white chalk over the surface. "You can talk to Cas. You wanna ask him why his angel buddies jumped us in the hospital? And what's up with that kid?"

Jimmy looked over to Kevin, who was now seated on an old wooden chair to one side of the room, still clutching the duffel bag.

_They were from my old garrison. We were assigned to watch over the Earth. It was often... boring. The wars, the sex... the repetition... Anyway, I was-_

"Stop... just, that's not helping," Jimmy rubbed between his eyes.

"What's not helping?" Sam raised an eyebrow at him, joining the conversation now that the sigils were in place.

"Nothing," Jimmy sighed. "Cas says they were from his garrison, whatever that means."

"So his old angel war buddies were after the kid," Dean mused.

"So," Sam cut in. "Why are the angels pissed at us now?"

_They were only following protocol. If the Word of God is revealed, a Keeper of the Word will awaken. Garrison code dictates that the Keeper be taken to the desert to learn the Word away from men._

"Woah, wait," Jimmy said, half oblivious to the Winchesters as he processed what Castiel had said. "Word of God? So you're saying this kid's some sort of prophet?"

"Yeah," Dean eyed him warily. "Yeah, Jimmy, that's what the angel chick said."

Jimmy shook his head. This was beyond insane, even for his life. "He says that ... his garrison's code dictates that they're supposed to take the Keeper of the Word to the desert, so he learn the Word of God..."

Kevin looked upset all of a sudden and blurted "I can't live in the desert! I-I'm applying to Princeton!"

The hunters turned to look at Kevin, then both rolled their eyes as they turned back to Jimmy.

"Well, you know what," Dean said, agitation creeping into his tone. "Screw the garrison. We need the tablet to end Dick's 'Soylent Us' crap."

Jimmy frowned. "This has to do with Leviathan, doesn't it..."

Dean raised his eyebrows, his expression dripping with repressed sarcasm. "Oh, good. You're on the same page, then."

"No," Jimmy admitted, irritated with the hunter. "No, I'm not. I have no _idea_ what's going on, still, or if any of you are even real. Hell, I'd just as soon have stayed at the hospital than go with you assholes, but when you wake up in freaking _Australia_ it doesn't leave a whole lot of options."

Jimmy was fuming, and the way Dean was looking at him as though he was some kind of baggage along for the ride wasn't helping.

"You don't like us," Dean said finally, taking a few steps toward Jimmy. "I get that. Fine. Cas screwed with your head, I get that, too. But right now, we're stuck with each other, and we need Cas because this is _his _mess and _he_ needs to help us clean this shit up. I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of this, man, I really am, but there are a _lot _bigger things on the menu right now, like the entire freakin' _human race_. So I'm gonna need you to button up your coat and pull on your big-boy pants and quit acting like a little bitch so we can save the freakin' world, got it?"

Jimmy felt his jaw tightening. He wasn't generally quick to anger, but at the moment there was a big target on Dean's jaw and his fist felt like a guided missile. Instead, he closed his eyes, turning away from the other man, and took a deep, calming breath.

"Jimmy," Sam said, his voice calm. Jimmy couldn't help but think he sounded like someone trying to convince someone going postal to drop a loaded weapon. "Look, I know this is confusing for you, but we really need your help. These creatures, these Leviathan- they're bad news. Like, apocalyptic bad. Please, just... bear with us a while... at least until we figure out how to stop them."

Sam held his eyes with that sad puppy look on his face.

_He's right. This is my fault. My mess._

"What do you mean," Jimmy asked, ignoring the looks it got him from the hunters. "Your mess..."

_I brought the Leviathans into this world. I released them from Purgatory._

"You..." Jimmy couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You did what."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Clearly only getting one side of the conversation was unsettling.

"Sammy," Dean said. "You can handle this, right? Kev, you. With me. Time to get started on your homework."

Dean walked over to Kevin and took him gently by the arm, leading the boy downstairs.

Sam looked a little helpless as they left, turning to Meg as the last bastion of sanity left in the room.

_I only meant to help. It felt necessary at the time._

"So," Jimmy huffed. "You decided to let out some kind of monster on the world? How exactly is that _helping_?"

"He was trying to help," Sam supplied, still watching Jimmy warily.

"He was doing such a wonderful job of it, too," Meg quipped as she pushed away from the wall. "Made himself a little golden God. Didn't he, Sammy?"

Sam gave her an irritated look.

_I am.. ashamed of my actions. But look, you see, this world- such beauty, and yet, even through all that pain. And Sam, so troubled. Of course, that's a primary aspect of-_

"Shut up," Jimmy half shouted, startling everyone physically in the room. "Just, shut up. I can't think with you running your mouth."

He waited for a moment, but Castiel had gone quiet again, and the demon and the hunter were staring at him again.

"... Sorry," Jimmy managed, his face turning red. "I just-"

"No," Sam said. "No, it's okay. This is probably really rough on you. Dean- Dean didn't mean to throw all that crap on you, by the way, but he is right. We do need Castiel, he's the one who brought the Leviathans. And for that, we need you."

Jimmy sat down heavily on the dusty old sofa.

"Looks like I'm not waking up any time soon," he sighed. "So why don't you fill me in..."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Have You Ever Seen the Rain

Sam spent the next hour going over everything that Jimmy had missed. Meg, claiming she was bored, had excused herself from the room.

Most of it was in brief, but he explained just as Dean had about how after Jimmy had gone back to Pontiac, he had found Amelia and Claire at his home, but the demons had caught up with him. He explained that Dean and himself had caught up with him and intervened, and that Jimmy had sent his wife and daughter to stay with relatives while Jimmy went with them, but that a demon had possessed Amelia and taken Claire hostage,

The demons had lured them to a warehouse, where Jimmy had been shot. Castiel had returned, taking Claire as his vessel and the demon had been exorcised from Amelia, but it seemed as though it was too late for Jimmy, and Claire was now host to the angel. Jimmy had pleaded with Castiel to take him instead, and the angel had acquiesced.

Castiel had remained silent through that entire part of the briefing.

From there, Castiel had returned to the service of Heaven, but later fell, instead helping the Winchesters to stop the Apocalypse, sacrificing himself in the process. Somehow, he had been restored- possibly by God himself, and had gone on to restore order in Heaven.

However, Sam continued, Castiel had gotten it into his head to open Purgatory in order to get a hold of the souls contained therein and make himself more powerful, allying himself with a demon by the name of Crowley in order to collect Alphas, the progenitors of the world's supernatural nasties.

Cas had double-crossed Crowley in the end and unlocked Purgatory himself, taking in hundreds of thousands of souls and declaring _himself _to be God. When Sam and Dean had found out what Castiel was up to, the angel had broken down some kind of wall in Sam's mind, releasing the pent up madness from when Sam had apparently been stuck in Hell with Lucifer and the archangel Michael. Jimmy noticed that Sam had a difficult time relaying this part. Apparently it had been bad.

After wreaking havoc on the 'wicked' of the world, Castiel had come to the realization that he had made a terrible mistake, and had come to the Winchesters for help in ridding himself of the souls that were destroying him.

They had succeeded in purging the souls, but a few- the Leviathans- had clung to Castiel, remaining in his vessel after the other souls had been gone.

The Leviathans took control of Castiel (_wait, so you're saying I was possessed while I was possessed?_) and had entered a nearby reservoire, where it had seemed as though Castiel had been torn apart, leaving behind only his trench coat, and thus unleashing the Leviathans into the world.

About a week ago, Dean had gotten a tip from another hunter about a healer that word had it could heal Sam's mind.

When Dean had caught up with this healer, who had been calling himself Emanuel, he had found Castiel there with no memory of what had happened before being found by the woman who had taken him in.

"I remember that," Jimmy frowned, remembering his vision in the kitchen. "There were demons in front of the hospital... Castiel killed them."

Sam looked at him for a long moment. "You were there?"

"...Sort of. I mean, I had no idea what was going on. I was in my kitchen with Claire one moment, then I was there in front of the hospital, but Castiel was calling the shots..."

"I thought when Cas was in control of you, you weren't supposed to remember anything," Sam said, analyzing everything Jimmy had said.

"I wasn't," Jimmy confirmed. "Not before, anyway. It was like..."

"Being 'chained to a comet'?" Sam quoted him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. "I caught some things every once in a while. Just images, here and there, but yeah for the most part it was like I had just sort of blacked out while Castiel was driving. I didn't remember anything."

"But now it's different," Sam said.

Jimmy nodded, taking a drink of the beer Sam had offered him while they talked.

"Now," Jimmy said, taking a moment to put his thoughts together. "Now it's like there's something wrong with him, like maybe... maybe he was injured somehow. When he blew out the lights in the hospital, it was like someone pulled the plug on him and he shorted out."

Sam frowned, contemplating this.

"Not to mention it's like he's completely insane. He... babbles, gets off track."

Sam laughed bitterly. "Yeah. I guess when you checked out after Dean caught up with you when you tried to run, Cas woke up for a bit and was with us. He was out of it, he kept going on about bees and cats. Then the other angels showed up and tried to grab Kevin... that's when Dean banished them... and you went with them it seems."

Jimmy chuckled. He was starting to like Sam. Unlike Dean, Sam was at least compassionate, and seemed to relate to Jimmy somewhat. It made more sense now, after he had told him about the Devil Himself plaguing him for weeks. Jimmy more or less knew the feeling and sympathized with the man.

"Yeah, well, waking up surrounded by pissed off greyhounds in Australia wasn't much fun, especially not with an angel rambling in your head about how unhappy they are. At least he had enough power to get me back," Jimmy got up and stretched. He still wasn't tired, even though he was pretty sure under normal circumstances, he'd be curling up on the nearest flat surface and staying there for the next few hours.

"I bet," Sam nodded in agreement. "So, what are you going to do?"

Jimmy contemplated it for a while. He still wasn't completely convinced. He still didn't remember things the way that everyone else seemed to.

"I guess I don't have much choice," he said after a long moment. "If this is real, and everything you said about Ames and Claire is true, I can't just wander back into their lives." It hurt to admit it to himself, but it was the truth. He couldn't do that to them again. And besides, it was possible still that he was insane, and his wife and daughter were fine, other than worrying over him as he babbled to people who weren't there and had epileptic fits. He had never prayed harder for insanity.

Sam nodded, watching him with sympathetic eyes. Yeah, he definitely liked this guy. Dean had apparently inherited all the asshole genes in their family.

Jimmy stood up, heading for the door.

Sam stood as well, looking like he was going to try to stop him. Jimmy stopped, turning. "I just," he sighed. "I'm just gonna step outside for a minute, get some air. I promise I won't run away this time," he smiled lamely, but the hunter seemed to understand and just nodded, redirecting instead to the small refrigerator in the kitchen and grabbing himself another beer.

"All right, Jimmy," he said. "I'll be here if you need anything."

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "Thanks."

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy wandered a little ways into the sparse forest surrounding the cabin, just taking in the early morning air for a while as he mulled over the influx of information.

"Castiel," he said after a time, stopping still well within view of the cabin if his babysitters should come out looking for him. The last thing he wanted was to be chased down again. It just wasn't worth the hassle at this point.

"Castiel," he tried again when he didn't get an answer. "You, uh, still there?"

_Yes,_ the angel replied, almost timidly.

"We need to talk."

_Yes, I had assumed you would want to... discuss things._

Jimmy sighed, not sure where to start.

"You know," he said, figuring he'd start at the beginning. "When I said yes to you, to allowing you to _use _me, I didn't agree to all of ... all of _this._"

_I am aware. Circumstances changed._

Jimmy scowled at the lightening sky.

_Sam was correct. You had been mortally wounded. You would have died. A living vessel is required in order for me to remain on Earth and interact with mortals. I was still needed. I did not want you to suffer, as I knew that it would be some time before I could relenquish you, if ever. I erased your memory of the events after your return to your family and allowed you to dream._

Jimmy felt his blood boiling. Castiel was telling him that everything, _everything _he remembered from the last four years was a _lie._

"And you thought that was okay?" Jimmy found himself shouting. "You thought it would be just fine to lock me up and let me believe my life was _fine_? You could have at least taken me back before _you _showed up! It was _hell! _Especially the first year, making up with Ames and Claire, putting my life back together..."

_It is my experience that humans do not always appreciate an 'easy ride'._

"Yeah, well," Jimmy fumed. "It was _my life _you screwed up, you childish, ignorant-"

_Did you know that honey bees are blind to the colour red? It looks black to them. One of the quirks of evolution, I suppose. Though why the flowers wouldn't want to be pollinated I'll _never _know. Perhaps they aren't keen on the idea of-_

"Just shut up," Jimmy screamed at the angel in his head. It was infuriating, having all this information dumped on him, and then this being who had turned his life upside down and was now as far as Jimmy reasoned stuck with him, starts babbling about freaking bees in an attempt to avoid his ire.

"So," Jimmy said after he'd taken a moment to lower his blood pressure. "Why this, then? Why am I here now?"

_Lucifer. Well, Sam's madness, in any case. When I took it, I had underestimated how powerful the damage had become. I felt myself.. break apart. It was quite beautiful, once, you know, the terror and despair had worn off. Then taking on Sam's pain... I was afflicted by his delusions at first, it tore apart my Grace. But then, then I saw everything... the pattern, the 'big plan'. It's all right there. It's strange, to think that Sam's sickness helped me see..._

Jimmy sighed as the angel continued to ramble about God's plan, making little to no sense. If he wasn't already crazy, then Castiel was sending him well on his way. It made more sense though, and it seemed to lend credibility to Sam and Dean's version of the things that had happened. Castiel had locked him away, probably for good, and when he had taken on Sam's own mental illness, it had broken him completely, wounded the angel physically. Well, as physically as one could wound a being of pure energy, anyway.

"Stretching your wings, angel-boy?" Meg sidled up to him from nowhere, causing him to jump a bit. He'd been so lost in thought, trying to drown out Castiel's babbling, he hadn't noticed her approaching.

"I," he stumbled, shaking off his surprize and reaching for composure. "I was just-"

"Talking to Castiel," she smiled.

Jimmy watched her for a long moment. "What are you doing out here?"

Meg shrugged, sauntering toward the cabin. "Oh, you know," she said wryly. "Just out for a walk. Long drive and all."

He walked with her. He thought he could smell something coppery on her, something hot and faintly lingering.

When they entered the house, she stopped suddenly at the door.

"Jimmy," Dean said, motioning him over. Jimmy noticed that there was a new symbol chalked into the floor just inside the door. A devil's trap, his mind supplied. Or was it Castiel? Either way, he figured something was up, and the better part of valor was just to stay out of the way while the hunters dealt with Meg.

"We didn't think you'd be back," Sam said idly.

"Yeah," Dean added. "Not without your boss, anyway." The hunter took a step toward the demon, holding out his hand. "Knife."

Meg rolled her eyes, handing over a silver knife with a rough wooden handle.

"Typical," the demon said. "I save your bacon, and you're sitting here with a Devil's Trap. I just killed two demons. I could've gone the other way on that."

_It's true, _Castiel piped in. _There's demons' blood on the knife._

Jimmy wasn't sure if he should say anything at this point, opting instead to say quiet and let the Winchesters work.

"I'm simpler than you think," Meg continued with her defense. "If there's one thing I figured out about this world, it's that you find a cause and you serve it. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes, their mission was it for me."

"So, what," Dean chided. "We should trust you because you wanted to free Satan?"

"I'm talking _cause_, douchebag," Meg snapped. "Obviously things shift over time. For me, currently, the cause is bringing down the King of Hell, and I know I need help to do it."

"Yeah, well," Dean countered. "Crowley ain't the problem at the moment."

"Crowley is _always _the problem, numb nuts! He's just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I need to do, and it ain't screw with Sam and Dean Winchester."

Sam sighed, locking eyes with his brother as they seemed to reach an agreement on the issue, then stepped forward, scuffing the chalk sigil with his boot and breaking the trap.

_Good. Communication. Now our only problem is Hester._

Jimmy frowned. "I thought the angels couldn't see us here," he said aloud.

_True, they couldn't. But killing demons nearby- it puts out a pretty clear beacon._

"Shit," Jimmy said, looking to Dean. "Cas... Cas says that killing those demons might get the angels' attention..."

Meg tensed visibly. "We need better angel-proofing, _now._"

Timing, of course, was not on their side, as just at that moment the door of the cabin blew inward, revealing a blonde woman of medium stature and two tallish, slender men- all of them dressed formidably in black suits. Jimmy thought they looked like some sort of agents.

"You took the prophet," the woman said, vehemence in her tone, eyes ablaze with anger.

_This will not be pleasant, _Castiel stated grimly.

Jimmy didn't know what happened next, because before he knew it, he was sitting on his sofa at home, Amelia beside him, watching some sort of musical talent show on television.

It took him several minutes to get his bearings. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered before waking up in Oz was being in the car with Amelia, having just gotten home from the hospital. He glanced around the room, breaking out in a cold sweat. He noticed Claire was sitting in her usual spot on the floor, playing with her phone, and the whole thing seemed just, so... normal.

He had expected to wake up in another hospital bed, or perhaps a straight jacket this time, but here he was...

"Jimmy," Amelia's voice spoke to him cautiously from his side.

He turned to look at her. She looked worried, afraid for him.

Had he been wandering around like a zombie for the last day and a half?

Something gave way as he looked down at his wife's sad, fearful eyes.

Jimmy broke down, and from the depths of his soul, he wept.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Touched

Dean stood on the porch of the cabin, watching Castiel.

Because that's who they had now, it seemed. Jimmy had gone MIA again when the angel bitch, Hester, had showed up and disrupted their interrogation of Meg, who had since disappeared again. Cas had said she was laying low. That black-eyed bitch was probably halfway across the country by now, for all Dean knew.

Castiel was now sitting out in the yard, babbling to a tree about dung beetles as though the tree could hear and understand every word. Hell, maybe it did. What the hell did Dean know?

Dean was sure of one thing, though. Cas didn't look so great. He looked worn down. Not long after the debacle with the angels, he had started looking pale and drawn, and he had rapidly developed dark circles under his eyes. Sam had relayed with Jimmy had said about there being something maybe physically wrong with Castiel, in such a sense that a being of energy could be injured. He was worried for his friend.

Also, not without a bit of guilt, he found himself wishing that Jimmy would pop back in and take over again. The way Cas was at the moment, Jimmy was just easier to deal with.

Castiel had never looked so... frail.

He knew it was a ridiculous contrast, considering that for the most part, aside from being sketchy and pretty much right over the cuckoo's nest himself, Jimmy had looked fine, physically.

Finishing his beer, he set it down on the wooden boards of the top step and meandered over to where Castiel was sitting.

"Hey, Cas," he said conversationally, trying to see what it was the angel was staring at so intently.

Castiel turned a sunny grin up at the hunter, obviously very pleased with something.

Dean was struck again by how..._ off_ he looked. His skin had taken on a waxy quality and his eyes seemed to have paled from their usual bright blue, seeming sort of grayish.

"So," Dean said, hunkering down. "What's up with you? And what's the deal with Jimmy?"

"Oh," Cas said, frowning and turning back to the tree. "Yes, that. I did try. Though, I don't think things will be able to continue as they are."

Dean considered the meaning of those words for a moment. "You mean Jimmy being awake, hanging out in the real world?"

"No," Castiel intoned, his expression unreadable. "I don't think I can keep him asleep much longer."

Dean nodded. "You gonna head back upstairs, then?" Dean felt a pang suggesting he might lose his friend. He still liked Cas, even though he was still trying to be pissed at him for the whole God/Leviathan thing, and despite the fact he wasn't exactly a functioning member of the sanity club at the moment.

Castiel took a long moment, picking at the sparse grass in front of him before he replied. "I wish it were that simple."

Dean frowned down at him. "There's usually a 'but' after a comment like that."

"I cannot return to Heaven," Castiel said plainly.

Dean waited for him to elaborate. When the angel just continued to giving the tree a thousand yard stare, he sighed. "What, so you're just going to keep riding along?"  
"Did you know," Castiel said, turning up to the hunter with a serious look on his face. "That if insects were the size of humans, they would currently cover every square inch of land on the Earth? Though, their propagation and life cycles, that would likely be rather unpleasant for the humans..." the angel frowned, contemplating this.

"Cas," Dean sighed, sitting on his heels and leaning back against the tree, facing the angel. "What about Jimmy. Is the dude even actually there? This whole time?"

"He has been dreaming," Castiel said after another long pause. "But the walls are crumbling. I am sorry, Dean. I don't know."

"And in the meantime," Dean surmised, angry again at the situation. It seemed cruel to him, having the guy live in some fantasy world and then having it suddenly collapse like this. "In the meantime the guy just has to live with it, while it drives him nuts, and you're just gonna chill?"

Castiel gave the hunter a grim smile. "I wish there was a simple solution. If I were to leave him now, as we are, it would certainly destroy me. Probably him, too."

Dean stared at the broken angel in front of him, the weight of those words slowly coming clear. Whatever had happened, it had wrecked them so bad that if Cas separated from Jimmy, it'd probably kill both of them.

"Shit," Dean swore, getting up and walking away from the angel, pausing after a few steps and turning back, just watching Castiel.

The angel had returned to picking morosely at the grass, seeming deep in contemplation.

This whole thing was screwed up beyond belief.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy sat at the table, clinging to a cup of tea, watching the steam rise lazily from the dark liquid. Amelia sat across from him, watching his face with concern.

He had apparently been alert the whole time he was 'gone', walking and talking like normal without incident, as far as Amelia had told him. He had told her he didn't remember anything since getting home from the hospital.

He wanted to tell her everything. Even the things that Castiel and the Winchesters had said, about the demons and Claire and how Castiel had come back and taken him from them again. He wanted to tell her what they had said about this supposed dream world he'd been living in.

He wanted to tell her, so she could prove them wrong.

He sighed, taking a sip of his tea to break the terse air.

"I don't know," he said finally, answering the unanswered question lingering over their heads. "I just..." he tried, pursing his lips as he thought about how to continue. "I'm not sure I know what's... real, anymore."

Amelia sighed, raising a hand to her lips, biting back what Jimmy could swear was the beginnings of a sob.

"I know," he continued. "I know this _should_ be real. You, and Claire..."

"Jimmy," Amelia started, but he raised a hand to stop her before she could go on.

"Just, hear me out. When I've... checked out," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "It's so real. It feels real. Castiel," Amelia closed her eyes at the name, pinching the bridge of her nose. He hated doing this to her, but if she was real, if this was where he was rooted and the world of the Winchesters and angels and demons was a delusion, then she deserved to know what was going on. "Castiel... Ames, I was never in an institution. I was never in Chicago."

"Jimmy," Amelia cut in. "I know you believe that, sweetie, but Castiel isn't real. _I _am real. _Claire_ is real. Honey I want to help you, please... let me?"

It was a simple question, but Jimmy knew what she was implying.

She was talking about having him voluntarily committed. She was breaking down finally. She didn't want to go through losing him again, and committing him was the simplest solution, taking him somewhere he couldn't hurt himself, and where Claire wouldn't have to go through watching her father lose himself.

He understood completely.

Jimmy chewed his lip, contemplating it. If this was the illusion, it wouldn't really mean much to lock him up in a psyche ward. It would just be where he 'woke up' when he was out of action in the real world.

But if this _was_ the real world, and the other world an illusion, then he would be rotting away in a hospital while his wife and daughter footed the bill.

He had to figure out a way to prove, once and for all, which was which.

"I understand, Ames," he sad finally. "... Give me a couple days to think about it, please?"

Amelia nodded, giving him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, of course."

She reached across the table, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy stood on the porch for a long while after his talk with Amelia.

It bothered him that in the other world, it had been early morning, barely seven o'clock. But when he had come-to with Amelia and Claire, it was early evening. The times weren't matching up. He hadn't really paid much attention to it, but he had assumed that they would.

"I'm not really sure how to do this," he said to himself, quietly. "I hope I'm wrong..."

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. All the scents were just as he'd always remembered. He had grown up in Pontiac, and the air had a unique quality to it, ever since he was a kid. Now, he was taking the chance that it might all disappear, probably forever.

He opened his eyes again, looking up at the stars that were just beginning to appear in a velvet blanket of aquamarine and sighed.

"I don't know if you can hear me," he said. "But I can't keep doing this, Castiel- Cas, if you can hear me, please..."

He waited for a long while, just listening to the sounds of the evening calm.

Sighing, he smiled just a little. "I thought so," he said with grim satisfaction, and then turned to go back into the house.

When he got to the living room, he froze, his heart faltering before it gave a jarring thud in his chest, hesitantly resuming the process of keeping him alive.

"Hello, Jimmy."

Standing in the middle of his living room, in what had once been Jimmy's own black suit, blue tie and beige trench coat, was an exact double of himself- except for his eyes. Jimmy's eyes had always been a nice shade of blue, but something in Castiel's eyes made him seem more ethereal, giving him an alarming and unearthly quality.

"Castiel," Jimmy breathed. All of his illusions were falling apart. If Castiel was here, and he looked the way he did, then this had to be the dream. Didn't it?

Castiel looked like hell. Sure, he looked like Jimmy (and Jimmy suspected that, after the last couple weeks he'd been having, he probably didn't look to great either), but he also looked strung out, worn thin. His skin was pale, waxen, making his eyes stand out a little too much, and he looked rail-thin and just... wrecked.

"Then," Jimmy said, his hopes for insanity crumbling. "This is the dream, isn't it. This isn't real."

The angel in the dirty trench coat gave him a sad, sympathetic smile.

"Amelia, Claire... everything was a lie."

"It was a reality you created," Castiel countered. "I never meant for you to suffer. I sincerely appreciate all you have sacrificed, and I am sorry."

There was a crash from the dining room, and Jimmy turned to see Amelia there, her hands covering her mouth with a look of disbelief and horror in her eyes.

"Ames," he said, everything suddenly hitting home. He swallowed hard, feeling tears begin to sting his eyes. "Can you see him?"

Amelia looked from Jimmy to the replica of him in the suit and trench coat and then back again, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Jimmy felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He hadn't realized until now just how hard he had been wishing, and now he felt as though he was falling through the event horizon of a black hole.

"Ames, I'm so sorry..."

He didn't notice as the walls of the house began to fade away to nothing. He didn't notice, either, when the floor beneath his feet fell away, leaving him suspended in a void. All he saw was Amelia, her breaking heart reflected in her eyes.

And his heart broke with it.

[XXXXXX]

When Jimmy came to, Sam was bent over him, pinching his nose, and he was- kissing him?

Jimmy jerked, choking on his own tongue as he breathed in wrong, scrambling back away from the other man.

"Wh-what the..."

Dean was standing behind his brother, anxious tension suddenly going out of his expression as he relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. "Well shit," he said. "That was freaking scary..."

Sam watched him for a moment, holding his hands up non-threateningly. "Easy, you went down... you weren't breathing. I was giving you CPR."

Jimmy sat there on the floor of the cabin, eyeing the brothers suspiciously. His head hurt. His chest hurt, too. His throat felt like it was on fire.

"... Castiel?" He waited for a moment for a response. He got none.

The brothers exchanged a look, then Sam sighed and got up off the floor.

"Cas's been driving for the past day," Dean said. "A few minutes ago he was standing here educating us on the dating habits of spotted ground squirrels, then he just collapsed. Good thing Sammy's certified." He clapped his brother on the shoulder.

Jimmy finally remembered where he was, and what had just happened. He remembered Castiel showing up, _physically_ in his living room, watching Amelia fade away, and he knew that that was it.

"This is real," he said, confirming it to himself as much as to his new companions.

"Yeah, Jimmy," Sam said, watching him with his signature concerned look. "Yeah, it is..."

For the second time in as many days, Jimmy broke down. It was finally hitting home; Castiel's lie, the madness, the hospital, angels and demons, the Apocalypse... and he remembered. He remembered the warehouse. He remembered the demon, possessing Amelia. He remembered Castiel coming to him, now possessing Claire. His daughter. Castiel had destroyed his family, completely.

Absently, lost in a flood of sobs and revery, he reached under his shirt, tracing the phantom pains of the bullet wound. There was no scar there, but he could feel it as though the bullet had just passed through him.

He suddenly felt exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to just sleep and let the blackness take him.

He was vaguely aware of two pairs of hands pulling him up and leading him to the cabin's sole bedroom, laying him down in the semi-darkness. And then he simply allowed his misery to consume him.

[XXXXXX]

When Jimmy awoke, it was morning again.

Castiel was still quiet, but he realised he could sense the angel's presence if he tried hard enough. It was like holding your hand over one of those plasma balls- if you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the faint hum of energy against your palm as the electricity arced against the glass.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. He could hear Sam and Dean on the other side, apparently discussing something having to do with a bone and the 'three bloods of the fallen'. Also, he could smell bacon.

As he was steeling himself to make the decision to go out there, to face what he had now come to terms with as being reality, the door opened.

Sam peeked in and, seeing Jimmy sitting there, he smiled a bit.

"Hey," he said, opening the door a bit more. "We weren't sure if you were going to wake up any time soon, you looked like you needed the sleep, though."

He took a single step inside, setting a beer and a plate containing a BLT on the dresser by the door.

"Thanks," Jimmy said, standing up and stretching. "Eh, sorry. About earlier."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Sam said, not without a hint of reproach. "You've had a rough week. No one's holding it against you. And if Dean says anything about it, you have my permission to pop him for it."

"HEY," Dean called from the main room. "I can hear you!"

Jimmy chuckled softly. This whole thing was screwed up, but he couldn't keep hating these guys. Despite their obvious character flaws, they were on his side. He didn't have any friends anymore. Hell, everyone probably figured he was dead. He needed all the friends he could get, and given what little he'd put together about the world, friends with guns were even better.

"So," Jimmy said, weighing his words before he proceeded. "I've never shot a gun before, but I'm not bad with Aikido."

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, giving him an almost skeptical look.

"What," he said, once he remembered how his mouth worked. "You want to learn to hunt?"

Jimmy shrugged. "What else have I got? My family's gone, my friends are gone. I can't go back."

Sam nodded. "All right," he said. "Well, eat up. Dean and I still have some stuff to go over, but I guess one of us can give you some lessons after lunch."  
Jimmy nodded. "Thanks."

If he couldn't be with his family, he reasoned, then the least he could do was do what he could to make sure the world they lived in had a few less demons in it.

Who knows. Maybe a few less angels, too.


	8. Chapter 8

(**A/N: ** After everything I've been putting Jimmy through, I figured he could use an easy day. This chapter is a lot of fluff.)

Chapter 8: Bangarang

Dean stood in the dusty basement of Rufus' cabin, staring at his younger brother sitting at the rough wooden work table. Sam was staring back at him with those sad, manipulative puppy dog eyes. Dean knew what the younger Winchester was up to, and he didn't like it.

"Did I miss something," the elder brother began. "Or did crazy somehow become an infectious disease?"

"Seriously," Sam argued. "I mean, come _on, _Dean, the guy just found out he's lost everything."

"So what, you wanna train him up and let him go on some kind of vengence kick?"

"Well," Sam said plaintively. "Isn't that kind of what we do? I mean, sure, Dad trained us and all, but it was all about-"

"Don't bring her into this, Sammy," Dean warned cooly, giving Sam a scathing look.

"All I'm saying," sam sighed, reinforcing his argument. "Is we help the guy out with a few skills so he doesn't get himself killed. You never know, Dean- he may even become an asset."

Dean shook his head and turned away from his bother.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was half afraid if they taught Jimmy how to hunt, the guy might decide to become a solo act. There was also the fact that the dude wasn't riding on a full set of wheels, and that wasn't even counting the fact that he had an insane angel of the Lord sitting shotgun in his head.

There was also the fact that Jimmy seemed to have a bad habit of checking out, leaving Cas in charge. Cas, well. He didn't like conflict anymore. Not to mention it seemed like whenever Cas _was _in charge, it had fairly catastrophic effects on Jimmy's body. Dude was like a leaking nuclear reactor. Jimmy seemed to recover pretty quickly, but Dean didn't want to have to deal with that crap on the field.

"Dean," Sam sighed, drawing him back to the conversation. "Odds are if we don't, he might go off and do it anyway. It'd be better to at least teach him how to handle a gun properly, teach him some wards and exorcisms."

Dean hated it when Sam got all logicky. He knew his brother was right, he just didn't like it. What if the dude flipped over to fantasy-land in the middle of a fight, or Cas popped in and decided to bail while Jimmy was supposed to be watching his and Sam's backs?

He knew he could only hold out against those pleading, puppy dog eyes for so long before he would inevitably give in. The dude had freaking powers of manipulation, even _without _the demon blood.

"Fine," Dean spat, more vehemently than he actually felt at this point. "You teach him to shoot, then."

Dean folded his arms petulantly, glaring at his younger brother when he caught him smirking.

"What," the elder brother snapped. "What's so funny?"

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender, giving Dean an innocent look. "Nothing," he insisted, then got up and went upstairs.

Dean shook his head in resignation. He really didn't like the idea of Jimmy getting into the life. The guy just didn't seem like the type to him, he was a family man. He was just so mundane. But now it was two against one, and it wasn't like he was going to drag Jimmy along when they went up against Dick Roman.

Sitting down at the table, Dean ruminated on the conversation for a while. Sure, Jimmy had every legitimate reason to want to learn the business. He was fit, capable, and seemed to be able to tap into at least a portion of Castiel's power.

He hadn't brought up his concerns on the matter just yet, as Jimmy had only just the previous day come to terms with reality, it seemed. He didn't feel like dropping that bomb on him just yet.

Dean didn't know if it had been Cas or Jimmy who had bamfed halfway around the world the other night, landing in the back of Kevin Tran's car. He was positive, however, that it had been Jimmy, not Cas, who had tossed him into a wall like a sack of potatoes at the hospital back in Indiana. The guy had been freaked and probably didn't even realise he'd done it.

Sighing, Dean picked up the notebook containing Kevin's translation of the Leviathan tablet, reading over the items they still needed.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy stood on the bottom step of the porch with his hands in his pockets, fidgeting while Sam set up a row of targets on the wooden fence separating the cabin's front yard from the dirt track that lead from their current location, the middle of nowhere, to the nearest town, which was next to nowhere.

"All right," Sam said as he walked back up to the cabin. "You wanna start with a pistol, or a rifle?"

"What, no shotgun?" Jimmy asked half seriously.

"We'll get to that, eventually," Sam said. "But for now we're just going to work on stance and accuracy."

Jimmy nodded, stepping over to the car parked in front of the building and picking up the Glock 9mm off the hood.

"All right," Sam said, sidestepping a little nervously as Jimmy turned it over in his hands to examine it. "That thing's going to pack a bit of a punch. So first thing you're gonna want to do is set your stance- like so..."

Sam went through showing Jimmy how to set his feet properly, how to hold the weapon with both hands, and finally, after explaining how the whole process worked, _then_ he showed him how to flick off the safety and draw back the chamber.

"All right," Sam said, stepping back. "Remember what I just told you- breathe in, breathe out slowly and squeeze the trigger lightly."

Jimmy set his feet. He felt awkward and a little nervous, but he was determined. This was the first time he'd ever held a gun in his hands that wasn't made of plastic or didn't fire paint rounds.

Taking a deep breath, he lined up the barrel on one of the empty beer bottles along the fence and pulled the trigger.

The report was incredible. The sensation of hot metal bashing into the right side of his face, however, knocking him on his ass, was not.

"Shit, you okay?" Sam had a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," Jimmy grimaced, one hand clamped over his eye. "Yeah I think so..."

Sam barely stifled a chuckle. "Told you it's got a kick," he said, offering the downed Jimmy a hand up.

Jimmy accepted the assistance, shaking his head to expel the ringing in his ears. "Jesus," he said, giving the weapon a look of respect.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder, then grinned back at Jimmy. "You iced that bottle, though. Not bad for a first try."

Jimmy grinned back at him, picking up full bottle from the case on the porch and pressing it against the already forming bruise under his right eye. "I could get the hang of this," he said.

Sam grabbed a beer as well, popping his open and taking a drink.

Dean appeared at the door a moment later, giving Jimmy a half concerned look, then raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"Me and the gun," Jimmy said with a shrug. "We had a little conversation. Let's just say we've reached an understanding."

Dean found himself smirking, but quickly wiped it off his face in favour of a scowl.

"I'm heading into town," he said, grabbing the hunting rifle off the hood and tossing it to Sam. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Hey," Sam said as Dean opened the drivers' side door.

Dean paused, raising an eyebrow at his brother, waiting.

"Don't forget to stay away from the pie," Sam admonished.

Dean gave his brother an excessively hurt look, muttering something under his breath as he got into the car, slamming the door.

Sam chuckled softly at the reaction.

"What was that about," Jimmy asked, wandering over to Sam as Dean tore off down the dirt track.

"Sucrocorp. Dean's got a fetish for junk food. Sucrocorp's got a controlling interest in pretty much everything that's manufactured these days."

Jimmy nodded. Sam had given him the run down on Leviathans and how they meant to turn the human race into cattle using processed foods.

Jimmy had to admit, he was a little upset himself.

He could really have gone for a burger.

[XXXXXX]

"You've got to be kidding me," Jimmy said, staring down at the plastic card in his hands.

He and Sam had spent the rest of the daylight hours working on target practice. Once he'd figured out holding his breath and closing his eyes when pulling the trigger wasn't helping, he'd done pretty well. The rifle was more difficult, but in the end he'd gotten off as passable with it.

Dean had come back a little before dark with supplies and groceries, and once they'd all settled in the main room of the cabin, he had tossed Jimmy a manila envelope containing his new identity.

Jimmy shook his head, staring down at the driver's license that now proclaimed his name to be James Brown. He had a matching FBI ID card complete with badge and leather wallet, as well.

Dean just smirked to himself in satisfaction, lounging on the dusty couch.

Sam leaned over from his perch at the table where he had his laptop and said "That's his way of saying 'welcome to the team'."

"Hey, I didn't say that!" Dean retorted, taking a swig of his beer. "I'm just sayin' if the dude's gonna learn he's gotta have the proper tools."

"Thanks," Jimmy said, pocketing the cards. Dean was still an asshole, but it saved him the trouble of getting new ID. Castiel hadn't exactly kept track of his wallet, he had found.

Speaking of Castiel, Jimmy wondered to himself, he hadn't heard a word from the angel since waking up to Sam giving him mouth-to-mouth the previous day.

Since this whole thing had started, he hadn't been able to go more than an hour or two without Cas starting some rambling monologue about insects or peace and love.

It was starting to worry him.

"Hey," Sam said, interrupting his train of thought, hovering over his laptop.

Dean glanced over to his brother. "What've you got?"

"Looks like there's a possible job not too far from here," he said, tapping a few keys. "Looks like some pretty routine spirit activity, typical salt-and-burn case. Restored 19th century home, they just opened it up as some kind of frontier museum. Two night security guards have been attacked by an invisible assailant, a third says that he caught a guy in period clothing wandering around the building after closing but that when he was confronted he 'disappeared into thin air'."

"Yeah, that sounds like our kind of crap, all right..." Dean raised his bottle. "Do we really have time to be dicking around with the little stuff while we've got Dick to worry about?"

Sam shrugged. "It's not like we're any closer to ganking him, and this is..." Sam checked the map on the screen. "Only about 60 miles from us. Routine case like this? We head out in the morning, we could have this taken care of by nightfall. Besides," Sam shrugged again, tilting his head toward Jimmy with a pointed look at Dean.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, then sighed. "All right," he acquiesced. "We'll head out in the morning. Sammy, dig up everything you can and see if you can't find out whose bones we need to burn. Until then," he paused, giving Sam a pointed look.

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "What," he gave in after a few moments.

"It's RPS time, bitch."

Sam sighed. "Dude you-"

"Ah-ah, Sammy," Dean tutted, shaking a finger at Sam. "We play for the bed."

Sam just shook his head and took position.

"What's RPS," Jimmy frowned, looking between the two Winchesters.

"Rock Paper Scissors," Sam grumbled.

"Uh," Jimmy said. "I think I'll just let you guys do that."

He watched the brothers face off against each other, ending in Sam victorious after a round of 2 out of 3 that became 5 out of 7, sending Dean grumbling down the steps to the basement.

"Word of advice," Sam said as Dean swore and kicked something hollow and metal below. "Dean always plays scissors."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jimmy replied, getting up and stretching. He wasn't all that tired, he realized, even after the long day. In fact, he really wasn't tired at all.

He went into the bathroom and washed his face, inspecting his bruise in the mirror.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as he had expected it to be. Earlier, when he had first looked at it, it had been so bad it almost looked black. Now it was just a rather interesting shade of medium purple.

Grabbing a beer (he surprised himself at how much he had been drinking all day, more than he usually drank in a year..), he stepped out onto the porch, popping the cap and taking a long drink. He wandered out to the yard, gazing up at the stars through the early spring foliage on the branches overhead.

"Castiel," he said aloud, calling the angel out beneath the stars for the second time in as many days. He had a fleeting fear that he would go back into the cabin and find Castiel there, as he had in his home in his dream, and this world would turn out to be just as much an illusion as the other. He shuddered, pushing the thought away.

"Cas," he said again, sighing softly. "You're being awfully quiet, today..."

He closed his eyes, reaching out his senses as he had earlier that day. After a moment he could feel it, the faint hum of energy deep down- the angel's presence. He didn't like that Cas was being so quiet, and worried that the angel had hurt himself somehow.

Sam had told him how Castiel had been the previous day, when Jimmy was checked out. How frail and broken he had seemed.

Against his better judgement, he hoped that Castiel was all right.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: More Than a Feeling

Everything was going smoothly on Jimmy's first hunt.

They got into town just before noon the following day, checking out the Frontier Museum during business hours and interviewing the victims. There was no CCTV footage to review, of course, but the descriptions and local legends narrowed the search for their vengeful spirit down to the previous owner of the house, one Angus Greeley, who was apparently angered that his home had become a tourist trap.

Unfortunately, Greeley had been burned alive by his 'hired help', but they discovered in short order that, in an apparent ritual that involved chickens, goat blood and cutting out Greeley's eyes had left earthly remains, in the form of the man's eyes being preserved in formaldehyde. The eyes in question were on display in the museum in the 'curiosities and local lore' wing. Flashing their skillfully crafted FBI badges (of course Jimmy couldn't escape any of the James Brown jokes from the local cops, which of course tickled Dean immensely), they were given domain to case the place after hours, letting the usual guard take the night off.

The place was huge. An old plantation house, it boasted two floors, five bathrooms, two kitchens, 8 bedrooms, a library and a freaking ballroom/dining hall. All three agreed that it was grotesque, but secretly admired the excess.

Having ditched their suits and ties in favour of jeans and work boots, the trio had tackled the job head on, figuring it wouldn't take more than half an hour to get the whole thing done.

Of course, that was before Dean got chucked over the second floor railing when he tried to enter the room where the remains were located and Sam had been blown across the hall, crashing through the door marked "Gold Rush", leaving Jimmy alone with just a shotgun between the spirit and himself.

"Uh, guys?" Jimmy almost froze, forgetting momentarily how to work the pump-action on the sawed-off shotgun he held in his hands, taking a step back and yelping as the spirit rushed him with a bone-rattling shriek, raising the shotgun like a shield.

"HEY!" Dean had made his way back up the stairs, firing off a round from his own shotgun, dissipating the spirit for the moment. Giving Jimmy a withering look, he turned and trotted back towards the door that Sam had crashed through. "SAMMY!"

Jimmy cursed himself under his breath for losing his cool, even for a moment. It could have easily cost him his life. He jogged after Dean, re-affirming his resolve. It was the first time in his mind that he'd ever seen an actual spirit. He was allowed one minor screw up, right?

A few yards ahead, Dean had ducked into the room with the destroyed door to check on his brother.

He didn't the spirit of Greeley materialise behind him, stalking through the door.

"DEAN! BEHIND YOU!" Jimmy shouted, picking up his pace and skidding to a halt at the entryway.

Dean was to the right, pulling Sam to his feet, which fortunately gave Jimmy a clear shot- which this time he took, scattering the spirit's incorporeal form.

Or so he thought.

A moment later, Jimmy felt something cool and oily wrap around his throat, pulling him off his feet. He could smell dust and decay and something that reminded him vaguely of campfire from the not-quite-material that gripped him, leaving a musty taste in the back of his throat.

Sam was on his feet now, blood sheeting down the left side of his face from a nasty cut he'd sustained when he'd landed, or perhaps from the door. Jimmy thought it was strange that he was currently more concerned with how Sam had gotten the gash than he was with the spirit currently choking the life out of him.

Then he realised he couldn't breathe.

Dropping the shotgun, he tried to pry the arm from around his throat with little effect.

Dean pulled his own up, lining up the shot- but he couldn't get clear without hitting Jimmy in the process.

The rock salt wouldn't kill him, Jimmy thought idly, but it would hurt like a son of a bitch.

Jimmy felt the spirit chuckle as its free hand suddenly cover his nose and mouth, jerking his head back. He felt panic begin to bubble up in his gut, a fleeting, sickly yellow sensation that made him light-headed.

_Great, _he thought idly. _I survive the apocalypse just to get strangled to death by a freaking ghost..._

As his vision began to grey, he saw Dean and Sam edge around the spirit in an attempt to flank, to which the spirit tightened it's grip, pulling his head back. Jimmy could feel his fingers tingling and his toes had gone numb.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness, something curious happened. He felt a warmth that started in his chest and spread outward into his limbs, his vision suddenly becoming clear- the dim hallway lit up and he could see the gilded wallpaper in stunning detail. His eyebrows furrowed, he glanced around the hallway and realised that he could faintly see the shades of people from all variety of eras. They didn't have the same substance as the spirit that currently held him in his grip- they were like echos, reverberating through time.

His eyes found Dean, who was currently staring at him with a mixture of horror and... something else, his green eyes wide with... surprize? Shock, perhaps? Jimmy couldn't tell, and in the next moment, the spirit let out a shriek of agony and Jimmy found himself engulfed in ethereal flames as Greeley burned away.

He sat on the floor, stunned. What the hell just happened? Sam and Dean had said that in order to expel the spirit, they needed to burn the remains- but the Winchesters were still in the hall, right in front of him. Backing away from him...

"Jimmy," Dean said, his tone soft and cautious. "Get your shit together man..."

Jimmy frowned, pulling himself up. He shuddered as something surged through him, something warm and powerful, and suddenly the decorative electric lanterns lining the hallway all simultaneously exploded in a shower of sparks. Somewhere, perhaps in one of the rooms, he heard glass shattering as though someone were throwing bottles or dishware against the walls.

Panic surged through him at the commotion, combined with the way the Winchesters were watching him- somewhere between awe and fear, and with it came another burst of that warm energy. Despite the fact that there were no longer lights in the hallway, a bright, pure white luminescence flickered around him, almost blinding in its intensity.

"Jimmy!" Dean tried again.

"God," Jimmy breathed. "Help me..."

[XXXXXX]

Dean had bit back his irritation at Jimmy when the dude froze up. He'd wanted to slap the shit out of the guy, but Sam was his primary concern, and then Greeley's freaky preserved eyeballs.

"DEAN! BEHIND YOU!" He heard Jimmy call out, but he had set the damn shotgun down to get Sam up. It was within reach, but by the time he'd turned around, Greeley was already coming at him.

A half second later, he changed his mind. He wasn't going to beat the crap out of Jimmy for freezing, after all. He'd just give him shit about it, because the dude had just pulled through at the last second, blasting Greeley into aether just before it got the chance to go for round two on Dean.

Of course, that had only lasted for a second, as the spirit reappeared behind the hunter-in-training and now had him in a headlock.

"Shit," Dean swore, grabbing the shotgun off the floor and tagging Sam on the shoulder. "Come on, Sammy, up up up..."

Sam sobered quickly, and both approached the hall. Dean raised the shotgun, but it was obvious he wasn't going to get a clear shot, and the spirit of Angus Greeley had Jimmy in a choke-hold. If he wasn't careful, the guy was going to get his freaking head snapped off by Casper the Strangler.

He exchanged a look with Sam, silently agreeing to try and get Greeley from the sides, hoping one of them could throw the spirit off. The fortunate thing about ghosts, is that they weren't always that bright.

Just as he was about to nod the go-ahead to Sam, shit went straight to the Twilight Zone.

He could see Jimmy's eyes flutter as he began to pas out from lack of oxygen, flying open a moment later and staring wildly around the room. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he saw the light in those blue orbs- unearthly and stunning in its purity.

_Cas, _Dean's mind immediately threw at him. But, no- the guy getting the life choked out of him looked dazed, maybe a little freaked out, his eyes skittering around the hall like he was on some kind of bad acid trip.

Then those freaky, glowing blue eyes fell on him, brow furrowed in mild confusion and slightly bemused.

Jimmy.

Well, that answered one of Dean's questions.

He'd barely worked it out when Greeley shrieked and erupted in cleansing flames, sent to whatever beyond vengeful spirits go to.

Oh, but of course the screwed up part of the equation didn't stop there. Nothing could ever go that easy for Dean Winchester.

Jimmy hit the ground, gasping, and that freaky white light seemed to surge. Dean figured it'd be wise to give the guy some space, and he saw with some satisfaction that Sam had come to the same conclusion.

"Jimmy," he tried. Maybe if he could get through to the guy, he thought, he could get him to calm whatever shit was going on with him. "Get your shit together, man..."

Jimmy got himself up, staring at Dean in puzzlement. Son of a bitch didn't even realise what he was doing. All three jumped as the white light surged, and every item of glass exploded from the pressure that was building in the hallway, like tension before a storm.

Jimmy tilted his head in such a Cas way that it freaked Dean right the hell out. Then he looked to Dean again, his eyes going wide as it dawned on him finally- and Dean saw sheer panic written on the other man's face, accompanied by another surge of blinding energy and more breaking glass.

"JIMMY!" Dean shouted again. God, he hoped he wouldn't have to take the dude out... that would really just cap off this whole week.

He heard Jimmy say something he couldn't quite make out, but the message in his expression was clear- he didn't have any control over this. He'd panicked when the spirit had him, his adrenaline kicking up, and now it was running wild.

Dean was hovering over the idea of using the Enochian banishment sigil, his fingers brushing the hilt of his knife, when suddenly the problem resolved itself.

Jimmy's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor. Rather gracelessly, at that.

Slowly, when it didn't seem like anything was going to explode and Jimmy hadn't moved for a good thirty seconds, Dean felt the tension go out of his muscles. He looked over at Sam, who looked just as freaked out as he felt, trauma written all over his features.

"What the FUCK was that?" Dean found himself half screaming, nearly hysterical. He didn't know whether to be pissed off or scared shitless. He settled on somewhere around the middle.

Sam's mouth opened and closed several times before he just shook his head. "I don't know... Cas, maybe?"

Dean exhaled heavily, moving over to Jimmy cautiously. The dude looked like he was out cold.

"Christ, Sammy," he said. "What the hell do we do?"  
Neither of them could come up with any good ideas.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy awoke twenty-five miles later, laid out on the back seat.

He shifted onto his back, groaning softly, covering his face with his arm. The lights passing overhead from the side of the highway were too bright, each one coming like a physical blow.

Sam looked back at him over his shoulder from the front passenger seat, worry etched into his features. "Hey," he said. "You okay?"

Jimmy glared at the space above his aching eyes for a moment, then carefully pushed himself upright. He frowned, realising that they were in the car. Had they killed the ghost?

"Wurr.." he tried, finding that his mouth was full of cotton and not wanting to cooperate with his brain just yet.

Sam looked to Dean briefly, then back to Jimmy. "Uh," he articulated.

Jimmy swallowed, trying to wet his parched throat, then tried again. "What happened..."

He saw Dean's eyes flash over him in the rear-view mirror for just a moment. "You flipped out on us."

"Do you remember anything," Sam asked, his tone soft and worried. "Do you remember what happened to Greeley?"

Jimmy frowned. What happened to... the spirit. He remembered. The thing had grabbed him, putting him into a choke-hold. He thought had thought he was going to pass out or die, and then...

"... Are you guys all right?" Well. That works, I guess, he thought to himself. He couldn't really think of anything else to say. The idea was too foreign to him, and he wasn't prepared just yet to think about it.

Sam gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, Jimmy. We're fine. Are _you_ okay, though?"

Jimmy thought about it for a moment, then gave a nod.

"Head hurts like hell," he admitted. He was exhausted, as well.

"Yeah, well," Dean threw in. "Guess you don't just throw around phenomenal cosmic power without getting kicked in the teeth."

Sam shot his brother a bitch face, then turned back around to Jimmy.

"Hey," Dean said, turning for just a moment toward the back seat. "You good, now?"

Jimmy leaned his head back against the window, closing his eyes. He searched himself with his senses, but he didn't feel that well of energy now, as he had in the museum. Just the faint hum of the angel's usual presence. "Yeah, I think so." He felt tired, but his thoughts were too tangled at the moment to allow him to drift off.

The rest of the drive back to the cabin was spent in an ambiguous silence, as all three men puzzled over the events of the day.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy could tell Dean was pissed as they pulled up to the cabin.

"Oh, you _have got_ to be kidding," the hunter grumbled, squinting out through the windshield.

Sam sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle in tandem with his brother, Jimmy following shortly behind.

"Hello, boys," the figure standing on the top step drawled.

Meg leaned against the support beam connecting the porch overhang to the wooden stairs, arms folded over her chest, her smirk oozing down at them.

"Meg," Dean spat as he slammed the car door behind him. "What are you doing back here?"

The demon shrugged, unshouldering a leather bag and tossing it to Sam, who just barely caught it.

"What's this," Sam wondered aloud, only half directed at the demon as he opened the bag.

"Oh," she said off-handedly. "While you boys were out fartin' around, I figured I'd lend a hand."

Jimmy looked over (well, more like around) Sam's shoulder, peering into the bag.

Sam pulled out a long, sharpened bone, holding it up in the pale moonlight.

"Bone of a righteous mortal," Meg purred. "That was on your 'Kill-Dick' shopping list, wasn't it?"

Dean inspected the bone, then shot Meg an icy, skeptical look.

"How do we know this is legit," he asked, pinning her with his eyes. "Why should we trust you?"

Meg gave him a mildly offended look in return, shifting her stance. "It's my ass, too," she countered. "Remember?"

Sam sighed, placing the bone back in the bag and zipping it up. "Uh, thanks, Meg..." he mumbled, as though thanking the demon had somehow soiled his tongue.

Meg smiled sweetly at the younger Winchester. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Where'd you get it," Dean said, his eyes still set on the demon. "Who'd you have to kill?"

The demon rolled her eyes in agitation. "Does that look fresh to you, dumbass?" She said, arching an eyebrow. "Relax, it's stolen. I did a little grave-robbing in Pennsylvania."

Jimmy couldn't help a small smile at the irony in the statement.

Dean sighed, looking at Sam and shaking his head.

"If you're screwing with us," he said as he climbed the steps, shoving past Meg.

"I'm _not_, not that you'd get off your high horse long enough to realise it."

A strained truce evolved without discussion as the four entered the cabin, but it didn't stop Dean from setting up a devil's trap and insisting Meg spend the night in it.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy got tired of hearing Dean and Meg bicker in short order, and excused himself to the porch, where it was at least somewhat muffled.

He sat on the top step, sipping a beer as he watched a few meteors streak across the night sky. He was really beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet, being so far removed from civilization.

His thoughts wandered, mostly avoiding what had happened earlier that evening. After what little had been said in the car, none of them had broached the subject again thus far. He figured it would come eventually, probably when Meg wasn't around.

_Her alliance is out of necessity. She will not betray you before the Leviathans are destroyed._

Jimmy frowned at a rock, as he had no physical focus to turn his ire toward in response to the voice.

"Where the hell have you been," he murmured aloud.

_...resting. _The angel sounded strained, barely there.

Jimmy sighed. Three days without a word, and the angel tunes back in as though he hadn't missed a beat.

"Cas," he said, before he had really thought about what he was going to say. "... Were you there, earlier? What... happened, back at the museum?"

_I saw, _Castiel replied. _I don't know. Perhaps it is because we have become so deeply intertwined._

Jimmy almost cringed at that. "What do you mean, 'intertwined'..." he asked, taking another drink.

When after several long minutes passed without response, Jimmy sighed and went back in. He was too exhausted to deal with the angel at the moment, and Castiel seemed too weak to carry on the conversation.

At least he knew now that Cas was all right.


	10. Chapter 10

(**A/N: ** Sorry this one's not as substantial. A little plot progression, a little fun... I might add another chapter later tonight.)

Chapter 10: Dig for Fire

Dean sat at the work table in the cabin's basement, stripping down and cleaning his guns as his thoughts wandered their own course. He kept circling around the mystery that was Jimmy Novak and Castiel. He couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time, if 'Jimmy' might not just be an aspect of the angel's broken psyche.

Jimmy seemed a lot more stable in the time he'd been back with them, but last night's incident in the museum had Dean worried. What had set him off, anyway? Was it just a knee-jerk reaction in response to nearly getting his head ripped off by Greeley's spirit?

Even more to the point, _how_? Cas had seemed so weakened, and Dean had assumed that most of his mojo must've been burned off by whatever had happened. But, if that were the case, how the hell was Jimmy tapping into it?

When the dude had lost it in the hallway, Dean couldn't help but think of the first time he had met Cas in that barn, that awe-inspiring presence as the angel had for all intents and purposes freaking _peacocked _himself in front of Dean and Bobby, the power crackling off of his vessel and the vague suggestion of massive, feathered wings.

This had, of course, been decidedly different. For one, Jimmy had looked like he was about to piss his pants, and other than the light show and that oppressive energy, he hadn't appeared all that angelic. He'd looked like a dude who'd been caught in the eye of a freaking hurricane.

"So just what the hell _are _you supposed to be then, Jim?" Dean wondered aloud, exhaling slowly, his eyebrows drawing together as he saw the puff of steam on his breath as he did.

He had been deep in thought, not noticing that the temperature in the basement had abruptly dropped by a couple dozen degrees.

"..Bobby?" Dean asked the empty room, eyes moving over every corner. That was just another screwed up thing he was going to have to face eventually. A hunter, a man who was like a father to Dean and Sam, who had decided to stick around after Dick Roman had shot him in the head.

Although disturbed, Dean couldn't quite tell himself that he hadn't been overjoyed to see the old man again after having watched him die in that hospital. He also had to admit that their father-figure-come-spirit companion had pulled them through more than a couple of rough spots since making his lingering presence known to them.

Trouble was, Bobby was becoming more and more obsessed with the monster that had taken his life, and the longer it went on, the more pissed off he got.

It tore at Dean's heart to watch Bobby Singer go v engeful. Even worse, he would have to do something about it, soon.

"Hey, Dean," a somber, gruff voice responded, pulling Dean out of his revery.

Dean turned to face the spirit of his murdered friend, regarding him in contemplative silence for a stretched moment. "Hey, Bobby," he said finally, breaking the uncomfortable lull. "How you feeling?"

The spirit of Bobby Singer shrugged. "Never felt stronger," he replied, sending alarms ringing through Dean's head at the odd choice of phrasing.

"You, uh," Dean began, pausing to choose his own words carefully. "You been hangin' out"

Bobby gave the hunter a sideways, lingering, sardonic look. "No, ya idjit, I've been kayaking in Niagra."

Dean allowed himself a small chuckle. Vengeful or not, the spirit definitely possessed Bobby's withering sarcasm.

"Look, Dean" Bobby went on. "I know you're worried about the kid, but don't you think you should be going after Dick?"

Dean sighed. Every time he talked to Bobby anymore it always circled around to Dick Roman, without fail. Granted, the situation _was _urgent, but the the wrathful obsession in the former man's eyes when the subject was brought up destroyed any illusions Dean clung to that Bobby was still really with them.

"We're working on it, Bobby," Dean sighed. "We've only got half the stuff we need so far. We still need the blood of the King of Beasts, and the Leader of Fallen Humanity. As far as I figure, means we need an Alpha, which, hell- I don't even know if there _are _any now, and Fallen Humanity, near as I can tell, that'd be Crowley."

Dean couldn't help but flinch as the lights in the basement flickered and a stack of old tomes was inexplicably hurled off the table. Bobby and Crowley, the self-proclaimed King of Hell and former Crossroads demon, had a bit of history- and it wasn't anything good.

"Well," Bobby growled once he'd gotten himself in check. "Why don't you call his ass up here, then?"

Dean watched his former mentor for a long moment. He knew that it was inevitable, if they were really going to put this weapon together and take out the head of the Leviathans, but after what had happened with Cas, he was reluctant to do so. What if Crowley decided he wanted some kind of vengence on the angel? Jimmy would be caught in the crossfire. Dean didn't think that Crowley would give a damn if Cas wasn't in charge anymore. Would the demon take it out on the man? Would he know that Cas was, supposedly, still in there somewhere?

"I know, Bobby," he said finally. "But even if we get Crowley on board, what about the Alpha?"

"You'll figure something out," Bobby replied confidently. "You always do."

Dean sighed. Luck was a two way street, he had found. The good always came with a shit ton of bad.

[XXXXXX]

_Most people seem to believe that it was one thing or the other; an explosion of matter, or seven days of Creation. Really it was more of both. God put all the pieces into place, and then it all just sort of went... BANG, I suppose? Anyway, I can tell you it took considerably longer than just seven mere days, that would be ridiculous, even by celestial standards. Of course, I wasn't even a fledgeling when the universe was created. Not even my brothers had yet been created. But we all, you know, just took God's word for it. I mean, who's going to say, "Oh, God- you're just yanking our chain," right?_

_So anyway, I was watching the sea with Uriel, and-_

Jimmy lay on the couch, face down with a pillow over his head, groaning softly.

Castiel had awoken some time around four-thirty in the morning and had yet to shut up. The angel had decided that, in light of the fact he couldn't go anywhere and Jimmy wsa, for the time being at least, stuck with the angel, he should tell Jimmy more about himself.

Jimmy had, of course, indicated that while he was glad that Castiel was feeling so much better, at the moment he- Jimmy- would rather continue sleeping for now.

It was now just before eight in the morning, and apparently Castiel had decided it was imperative that he clear up a few common misunderstandings regarding the Big Bang.

_Like a giant frisbee on the backs of four elephants on the shell of a turtle flying through space. I have to admit it's very creative, but it's not very practical, is it? They wondered often about the elephants, but if I had to guess, I believe that the elephants would have to have been genderless. There's only so much space to stand on the back of a turtle, and-_

Of course, the problem with that was the angel no longer seemed to have much concept of coherency, often getting side-tracked and dithering off on wild tangents that could only be described as 'loosely connected' to the original subject.

_And so I told him his ancestors were air-breathing mud fish, but he didn't seem to think it was funny. Uriel had said it was funny, and, well, he _was _the funniest angel in the garrison. It was the truth, however, but I-_

Jimmy was beginning to miss when Castiel had been too ill to speak, granted it made him feel a little guilty to think so.

_Because the irony that Greenland is covered in ice, and Iceland is verdant-_

"Cas," Jimmy grumbled into the cushion.

_Which means that even though you see blue, the sky is actually black. Unless you were colour-blind, then it would be-_

"Cas..." Jimmy tried again. He wasn't sure how much more of the angel's rambling he could endure.

_Evolution was tricky. It was all about putting the elements into place and giving them a little push. I have to admit, though, I was betting on the Neanderthals. Their poetry was-_

"CAS!" Jimmy shoved himself up, running his fingers through his hair. He was not in a particularly good mood. "Shut up!"

Meg was sitting in the arm-chair, secured in the devil's trap that Dean had drawn on the ceiling the previous night, examining her nails. She was watching Jimmy with bewildered amusement.

"Mornin' sunshine," she said with a big plastic grin.

Jimmy shot a grumpy glare at her. He wasn't tired, despite only haven gotten a couple of hours of sleep the night before, but he was utterly exhausted. Castiel was driving his nerves up with his constant babbling.

"... Where's Sam and Dean," he asked the demon.

"Sammy's in town lookin' for components. Dean-o's downstairs," Meg replied, shifting her focus to picking at the ends of her hair.

Jimmy got up off the couch, going into the bathroom.

After taking care of business and washing his face in the sink, Jimmy turned to the mirror to inspect the bruise he had received from the Glock during shooting practice.

To his surprize, he had a difficult time finding it. It had faded to almost nothing in less than two days, the only evidence it had even been there being a pale yellowish splotch over his cheek bone.

_Tattered pieces of my Grace have become tied to your soul, _Castiel supplied, a little sheepishly.

Jimmy frowned, contemplating this. "... Is that what you meant by 'intertwined'," he asked the angel.

_Well, yes... when the Leviathans tore me apart, they did so entirely. I was still healing when Dean came to me and brought me to Sam. I guess you could say I, 'fell apart'... heh._

Jimmy hung his head and sighed. What did that mean? Did it mean that it had been all his doing at the museum? The lights? Burning the spirit?

"Great," he murmured. "So, how do we fix you?"

_... I don't know. I've never heard of such a thing occurring. Think of it as two pieces of glass welded together- one cannot be separated from the other without damaging both._

Jimmy frowned deeply at his reflection. "What do you mean," he asked evenly, not sure he wanted the answer.

_Until more is learned of ... our condition, as it were, I do not think that this can be undone._

Jimmy just stared into his own eyes. Castiel was implying this might be _permanent_. That Castiel removing himself from Jimmy's mind and body could kill them both.

Jimmy imagined the rest of his life listening to Castiel chat him up about God only knew whatever tangent he might go off on. Even in the case that this was temporary, Jimmy was going to have to lay down some ground rules for the mad angel.


	11. Chapter 11

(**A/N: **I know I promised more plot this chapter, but I had to get this out of the way. I still insist this isn't slash, and I promise that it will stay well within the rating I've applied to this fic. There will be more to come, and it will be getting on with the plot shortly :)

Chapter 11: Don't Let's Start

Jimmy may be drunk, but he still couldn't explain how he had ended up here, with the demon Meg pressed between himself and the wall in the hallway between the seedy bar and the restrooms, lips awkwardly locked with her hands up the back of his thin jacket, tongues wrestling as she clawed at his back through his shirt.

Sam and Dean had sent him off with her so that they could do some sort of ritual that might help them take down Dick Roman, the CEO of Sucrocorp and the leader of the Leviathans. Meg had thrown a fit about whatever it was, so they tossed him a bill and the keys to the car and told him to take her into town and keep an eye on her for a while.

He had been hesitant about it when he got behind the wheel of the beat up, rusted old Ford, the demon in the passenger seat beside him with that sultry smile on her pretty face. Of course, Jimmy could still see beneath the mask, into what she really was. Not as clearly as he was sure Castiel probably could, but he thought the half-seen distorted face beneath that of her host just made it all the more disturbing.

They reached town around six o'clock, after a long stretch of dirt road and uncomfortable silence. Jimmy had found himself glancing at her from time to time, wondering if she would try something on him and attempt to make a break for it. She had watched over him- well, Castiel- at the hospital in Indiana, but knowing what she was, he couldn't trust her. She had seem companionable enough, even helpful, but she was still a demon.

Jimmy was ultimately flattered that the Winchesters trusted him enough to give him charge over Meg, but he couldn't help feeling a little inadequate for the job. He had barely managed against the spirit the other night, and that was with Sam and Dean there. How did they expect him to handle the demon, albeit a seemingly friendly one, if she decided to turn on him?

Parking the car in front of a little shop that proclaimed to have the 'best homemade icecream in the valley', he found himself somewhat taken aback by the atmosphere in the town.

The streets were fairly busy, being a fairly warm Saturday afternoon in late March. It was still too cool to go out without a jacket, but Jimmy noted that there were several people lumbering about in t-shirts and shorts already. Despite the teeming activity, Jimmy could sense something off about the way people were interacting- or, to be more precise, how they _weren't_ interacting.

"Welcome to the cattle farm, cowboy," Meg quipped from his side, having noticed the look of wary concern on his face. "Sucrocorp's contribution to America. It's like peace on Earth."

Jimmy frowned, not amused by the analogy. "So, what- the crap they're putting into food is turning people into... zombies?" It seemed an apt comparison. Everyone he saw on the streets seemed to be only vaguely aware of their surroundings at best, ambling along as they went in and out of shops, or just simply sitting or standing in place, staring vacantly into space. He noticed that they all had the same look of blissful contemplation. It reminded him of a party he'd gone to once in his Sophomore year of college, where someone had brought out a bong.

"More or less," the demon shrugged. "This is was the world has to look forward to if Dick and the Leviathans win."

He looked down at his abominable companion and frowned. "And you're against that?"

Meg arched an eyebrow at him, giving him a mock-wounded look. "They don't exactly like competition, and where do you think that leaves demons?"

Jimmy had to think about that one for a moment. As far as he'd learned, demons didn't _eat_ people, but considering he was new to all of this, he couldn't really argue the point. The Leviathans seemed to be ruthless predators, clawing and biting their way to the top of the food chain. He supposed that meant taking out the weaker predators and scavengers along the way.

He shuddered as he envisioned an all-out superiority war at the expense of the human race.

"You look like you could go for a drink," she suggested when Jimmy didn't say anything for a long while. "What do you say we go find us a bar?"

"You think that's a good idea, considering everything's probably contaminated?"

Meg smirked. "Then what, we just going to stand here people watching?"

Jimmy sighed. He didn't really feel like wandering the streets aimlessly, so he acquiesced.

He cringed inwardly as the demon slipped her arm through his, pulling him away from the relative safety of the car. "You really need to lighten up," she said. "I'm getting a cramp just looking at you."

The Bulldog Saloon wasn't exactly Jimmy's type of bar.

It was the type of bar he expected to host leather clad bikers and regular brawls.

He felt the trepidation creeping up his spine as Meg pulled him through the heavy, plated door- the smell of sweat and stale cigarette smoke immediately filling his senses, nearly gagging him. Once his eyes stopped watering from the stagnant, acrid air, he could see three pool tables to one side of the bar, one in use by a couple of rough-looking guys who Jimmy assumed could beat him to paste if he looked at them wrong. There were wooden tables scattered throughout the space, but the dive didn't seem too busy, even for a Saturday. A few older men and women sat at the bar, looking as though they'd taken up residence there for years, and one table near the door hosted a group of about a dozen heavily tattooed and pierced college kids. The bar patrons seemed much like the people outside, half dazed and less than lucid.

Meg slipped away from him and sauntered to the bar. He didn't hear what she'd said to the cute black haired bartender, though, still trying to decide if he was falling prey to some sort of trap.

When she came back with a bottle and a couple of shot glasses, he just looked at her, not quite registering.

"What," She asked, giving him a look. "You planning on taking up a job as a second door? Sit your ass down," she gestured at a table at the raised section of the floor near the back.

He watched her cautiously as she poured the first two shots, setting one in front of him as he took his seat.

Meg caught the look and smiled slowly. "You and Castiel are a lot alike," she mused, tossing back the shot like water.

Jimmy frowned, going on the defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're prude," she supplied with a shrug. "Dear sweet Castiel gets that same look on his face when he's scared."

"What makes you think I'm scared," he questioned.

Meg just smiled at him, refilling her glass.

Jimmy perched his elbows on the table, looking anywhere but at the demon across from him. He still didn't get why she kept hanging around. She and the Winchesters obviously weren't on good terms, and why would they be? She was a demon. They hunted and killed creatures like her. Her argument about helping them take on the Leviathans out of necessity seemed valid enough, but why did it seem as though she was the only hellspawn on the bandwagon? It didn't make sense to him, that she would seek alliance with the hunters, or why she had seemed so eager to get away when Sam and Dean had mentioned talking to Crowley. Wasn't he supposed to be the king of Hell? He wondered what she had done that she seemed terrified of confronting her boss.

"So," she said, breaking his concentration. "What's it like?"

He blinked at her, thrown off guard by the question.

Recovering his balance, he picked up the shot glass, shuddering as the harsh fluid hit the back of his throat, the vapors filling his sinuses causing his eyes to water.

"What's what like?"

"Having an angel ride shotgun."

He eyed her for a moment. He hadn't really spent much time dwelling on how he felt about it, but now that he thought about it, it was exhausting. Annoying, even. Castiel had seemed to get the hint finally after the morning's ramblings and Jimmy had set down some rules after their conversation in the mirror. Cas wasn't grounded, per say, but he was to keep to himself unless Jimmy spoke to him directly, or if he had something pertinent to say. And he wasn't, under any circumstances, to try to grab the wheel unless it was absolutely necessary, or unless Jimmy gave him permission to do so.

"Weird," he summed it up.

The terse exchange turned into an actual conversation at some point, Jimmy divulging a bit more than was probably wise. He told her about how he had met Amelia in college, how she had hated him at first because he had tried to cheat off of her test in class, but she had ended up studying with him in the end and one thing had led to another. He told her about Claire, how when his daughter had been born the world had seemed to come to a stop when that tiny person he had helped create was placed in his arms and his life had seemed so perfect.

He had to stop himself when he started talking about the last four years, about making up with Amelia and Claire.

Jimmy didn't like to think of himself as emotional, but he found himself getting depressed when he thought about that fake world he'd been relatively happy in and, as a result, had gone through half of a second bottle of cheap whiskey with the demon.

"So," he slurred after taking down yet another shot. He'd lost count of how many he'd had, but he was vaguely aware that it was more than he should have been capable of putting down and remaining even somewhat upright. "Why're you the only demon seems to be out 'saving the world'?"

Meg raised an eyebrow at him, her smile faltering. "I was loyal to Lucifer," she said, refilling their glasses again. "When Crowley took over," she continued. "He had us all hunted. We 'compromised' his position as king." She raised an eyebrow, lifting her glass and waiting for Jimmy to meet the challenge.

Jimmy frowned, contemplating this. "So," he said. "You're on our side because you're Satan's lackey?"

Meg smiled, letting out a genuine laugh. "I can see why you get along with the Winchesters so well," she said, taking her shot as he did. "No, smartass. It's just the likeliest bet. Working with Sam and Dean doesn't make me the good guy, here," she said with a smile. "It just means they're the best protection I've got, and as long as I stay useful to them, I stay alive."  
Jimmy snorted, setting his glass down awkwardly and tipping it over. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk, if he ever _had _been this drunk, but it felt good. He couldn't hear Castiel anymore, but he could still feel the angel buzzing around in his skull, and that was okay. He frowned as an urgent thought overtook him.

"I'll.. be right back," he murmured absently as he stood up, making his way to the hallway leading to the restrooms.

Meg stood with him, catching his arm as he stumbled over his own feet. "Easy there, hot stuff," she said as she positioned herself under his arm.

She waited for him outside the door until he stumbled back out, taking his arm again.

He stopped, looking down at her, suddenly wishing that it was Amelia next to him, berating him for his excess and telling him she would have no sympathy if he woke up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers. She could be so motherly, sometimes, and he missed that, too.

Without thinking, his hand had found its way to brush the ends of Meg's long, wavy brown hair, the demon in question looking up at him with a bemused, somewhat hesitant look.

Before he knew it, he had her face in his hands, backing her up against the wall and kissing her. He could taste blood on his lips from when their teeth had clashed, like a couple of over sexed teenagers on their first date, alone for the first time and experimenting.

It almost surprized him when she reciprocated, her hands moving up his sides, and it felt good to be in such close proximity to a woman in this way. It felt like it had been eons since he'd had this sort of physical contact with another being, human or not.

It didn't last long, however, as a hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off the flustered and confused looking demon. He didn't have it in him to protest too much, resigning to scowling at the livid-looking green-eyed man who had interrupted as his legs decided to give out on him, sliding down with his back against the opposite wall as his head swam.

[XXXXXX]

_"They've been gone for hours," _Sam had said._ "You still think it was a good idea to have Jimmy babysit Meg while we talked to Crowley?"_

Dean cursed himself the entire ride down into Whitefish proper. Things had gone well with Crowley, even though the smug bastard wouldn't give over until they'd pieced everything else together, but he'd let them in on the location of an Alpha, renewing their hopes that they actually could put Dick in a hole after all.

The Vampire Alpha, it seemed, had gotten away from Crowley when he and Cas had worked together to open Purgatory. It had turned out to be a rather convenient blessing in disguise.

The whole exchange with the King of Hell had taken a little less than half an hour. Jimmy and Meg had been gone for about three times that at the time, so it didn't bother the brothers too much. They had told Jimmy to keep the demon and himself away from the cabin for a few hours, after all.

By the time the sky had darkened, though, both Dean and Sam were starting to get worried.

When ten o'clock rolled around and they still hadn't heard from Jimmy, Dean had decided to take their remaining mode of transportation and head into town to look for them.

"Stay here, Sammy," Dean had told his brother. "In case they show back up."

Then, strapping on the heavy black helmet, he straddled the ancient motorcycle and kicked on the gas, tearing down the dirt road into Whitefish.

Without much to go on, the first thing he did was comb the streets until he found the car, parked in front of an ice cream shop. Dean cursed under his breath and hoped that Jimmy hadn't just fallen victim to something like a TDK Slammer. The memory of the insidious Sandwich illicited a shudder from the hunter, but he brushed it off and started looking for nearby businesses that were still open, namely cafes and bars.

The third such establishment, a dive called the Bulldog, Dean finally felt the nervous tension go out of his gut, only to be replaced seconds later by truculent irritation at what he found when he spotted Jimmy and the demon.

In the back of the bar. In the hallway.

Making out like a couple of drunk, horny teenagers.

He stalked over to the pair, tearing Jimmy off of the demon.

Jimmy looked like he was about to take a swing at him for a half second. Dean stood there, half daring him to go ahead, but then Jimmy just sort of sank against the wall, drunk and daydreamy.

The hunter turned his attention to Meg instead.

"What the hell was that," he spat at her. "What did you do to him?"  
Meg looked confused and out of breath, but she looked up at him and shrugged. "Beats me," she said. "I was just trying to loosen the guy up a bit. Not my fault angel-boy's a featherweight."  
Dean gave her a look that he hoped conveyed how little he trusted her, or believed her, for that matter.

"Yeah, well," he struggled to come up with a good retort. "In most circumstances they call that taking advantage. Get the hell out of the way."

Dean grabbed Jimmy up by his arms, but the dude was too sauced to stand on his own. "How much did he drink?"

Meg, ever the sly helpful one, slipped under Jimmy's other side, helping Dean get him to the door. "Oh, just a few. He was determined to keep up," she said, smiling wryly. She didn't seem the slightest bit drunk, though Dean suspected she had set a high bar if Jimmy was this toasted.

"New rule," Dean said. "You're cut off."

Meg rolled her eyes, and together they dragged Jimmy back to the car and packed him into the back seat, heading back to the cabin in terse silence broken only by Jimmy occasionally murmuring incoherently from the back.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Back in Black

The first thing that swam into view when Jimmy opened his eyes the next morning waas the imposing figure of Dean Winchester, looming over where he was inexplicably sprawled on the floor not far from the cabin's front door. He was vaguely aware that a sharp pain in his left shin seemed to be what had awoken him, and he suspected from the irritable look on the elder Winchester's face that it had been the other man's boot that had been the source of that pain.

Pushing hiself up on his elbows, he began to puzzle out the details of how he had ended up here. There seemed to be some time unaccounted for, because when he looked at the window near the door, he could see soft, early morning sunlight filtering in around the edges of the curtain. He vaguely remembered taking the demon, Meg, into Whitefish the previous day, and...

Oh. Now he understood why Dean looked so pissed.

"Ugh," he greeted the man towering oer him. He didn't particularly feel like he had a hangover, but his head felt sluggish and a little fuzzy.

"Morning, Romeo," Dean drawled in a mocking tone.

"Ugh," Jimmy affirmed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Now, usually it's none of my business who another dude wants to bang," Dean continued in a preachy tone that made Jimmy want to crawl back under his jacket and tune the other man out. "But _Meg_? _Seriously_? I know you've been cooped up a while, but _damn, _dude, _standards_!"

Jimmy sighed, not particularly feeling like dealing with Dean's admonition. "What time is it," he said instead, deciding that avoidance was the better part of valor in this particular situation.

"Quarter to seven," the hunter responded with a slightly irritated edge. "Pack your shit for about three days. We're heading out in fifteen." Dean started to turn away, but paused- turning back to the rumpled man on the floor. "By the way," he said curtly. "Next time you feel like picking up a hooker, make sure she's not packing sulfur." Dean turned away again, clomping out the door, muttering under his breath.

Jimmy groaned, pulling himself up off the floor and stumbling to the bathroom, washing up before ambling back to the main room and packing everything he would need for a couple nights on the road.

It amazed him how quickly he'd adapted to all of this. Five years ago, if anyone had asked him if he saw himself one day roughing it in the back country of Montana with a couple of guys who could easily be mistaken for serial killers while chasing monsters and living in cheap motels or, on occasion, out of a piece of crap old car, he would have laughed at them until he ruptured.

After having his body hijacked by an angel, losing his family, surviving the apocalypse, getting blown to shit at least three times and having your possessed body possessed by monsters- well, it changes a guy, he supposed.

He was still bitter about the four years, still mad at Castiel for essentially lying to him about that, but he found in rather short oder that he just didn't care as much as he probably should. He missed his family, but quickly rationalized that much of what he remembered now hadn't even been real. Amelia and Claire had likely moved on by now, so he should as well.

Once everything was accounted for, he zipped up his duffel bag and headed out to the car, tossing the bag into the back and following it in.

He noticed that the demon was nowhere to be seen, but concluded that asking about her absence would only be asking for the Winchesters to give him crap about it, and decided to just leave the subject alone.

"So," he said, deciding that what they were heading out at the crack of dawn for was a more legitimate concern. "Where are we headed?"

"Hoople, North Dakota," Sam replied. Dean barely glanced in the rear view as he turned the car onto the main road toward town and the highway beyond. "We've got a lead on an Alpha, might give us a leg up on Dick."

"What _is_ an Alpha, anyway," Jimmy asked. He figured it was kind of a big deal, like a leader or something, relating the term to something like wolf packs. He had heard Sam and Dean use the term a few times over the last week.

"First of their kind," Sam supplied. "They're the progenitors of their species. Right now, we're going after the vampire Alpha."  
Jimmy just stared at the back of his head. Were they really bringing him along on a big job like this?

Dean seemed to catch his 'deer-caught-in-headlights' impression in the mirror and said "Relax, Jim. Sammy and I'll have your back. Besides, you're on recon. You're gonna stay with the car while Sam and I case the house. You'll give us a heads up if anyone shows up unexpected so things don't go South." Dean paused, giving him a sarcastic smirk in the mirror. "And oh yeah, if you run into a vampire, try not to make out with it."

Jimmy tried his best impression of a bitch-face. If Dean was joking about it, then he supposed it was all right. He hadn't intended to end up in that situation the previous night, and the fact that he had disturbed him a little. Apparently it was water under the bridge, now. When did he get so comfortable assessing the Winchesters, anyway?

"In case you were wondering," Dean continued. "Your new girlfriend's gone on to Chicago to case Dick's empire."

"Ha-ha," Jimmy intoned. "You're not going to let that go, are you..."

"Nope," Dean affirmed, grinning brightly into the mirror at the passenger in the back seat.

"In any case," Sam said, rolling his eyes at his brother. "We're not going to put you in too high a profile on this one. If things go to shit, you'll be with the car. If it looks too hot, get out and get yourself to town. I programmed a couple numbers into your phone, give Garth a call if we get separated."

Jimmy wasn't sure if he was comforted by that or not, but this was the life he'd decided to live after his rude awakening, and he'd be damned if he backed out now.

_You will be safe. Dean and Sam will watch over you, as will I._

"Yeah," Jimmy murmured. He actually did feel comforted by the angel's reassurance.

[XXXXXX]

Six hours later, after Sammy had finally giving up whining about taking the wheel for a while and conceded to take a nap in the passenger seat, the car had delved into a comfortable silence.

Dean was impressed at Jimmy's taste in music. Maybe not as hardcore as Dean himself was into, but decent nonetheless. When Dean had popped in his Zeppelin tape, Jimmy's eyes had actually lit up and _smiled_. He was beginning to think maybe Cas's ever-stoic expression was a Jimmy thing, and not just an awkward angel thing, but the dude seemed to utterly transform right in front of him in those first few hours of the drive.

He guessed he had to give the dude some credit. He'd only been back amongst the living for a little over a week, and it'd been a hell of a week on the guy. It had to really suck having your entire reality fall apart a piece at a time. Dean admired the guy for how well he was holding it together.

They'd spent the better part of two hours chatting about the classics, everything from AC/DC to Zep. Dean absolutely drew the line when Jimmy started talking about ABBA, though. The guy had taste, but everyone had their guilty pleasures, he supposed.

"So," Dean said, turning the radio down a bit. "Uh, about you and Cas," he said lamely.

Jimmy lifted his head from the window, where he had been gazing idly out at the passing scenery. It reminded Dean of Cas, but at the same time it was so completely unlike Castiel. Sometimes he wondered if the angel didn't slip out, just a bit. The guy could be so severe sometimes. Dean tried not to dwell on it too much.

"Yeah?" Jimmy gave him an impatient look.

"He still driving you nuts with psycho-babble?"

Jimmy emitted a scoffing chuckle, pulling himself upright a bit more. "For the last half hour, he's been telling me about how Gabriel tried to one-up Jesus on the whole raising of Lazarus thing and re-animated the Necropolis at Amathus..."

Dean blinked, then surprized even himself by failing to catch a bark of sudden laughter that caused his younger brother to grumble and shift in his sleep.

"Seriously?" Dean chortled to himself. From what he remembered of the late Trickster, it seemed like something the bastard would have done.

"Cas insists it's true."

"Damn. That must've freaked a lot of people out."

Jimmy smirked, chuckling softly to himself. Dean still had trouble believing this was the same dude who'd freaked out and tossed him into a wall, insisting Dean and Sam were hallucinations, just over a week ago.

"Not to turn to a touchy subject," Dean said once he'd gotten his giggles (_snickering, dammit. I don't 'giggle'._) under control. "But, uh... seems like you've picked up a few new tricks since you've been back."

Jimmy looked out the window again, shrugging with one shoulder.

"Cas says it's because after his Grace was torn apart and put back together, some of it was attached to me. To, uh.. my soul. I guess."

Dean frowned. "Yeah, Cas kinda mentioned something like that, when you were checked out. So, you have any clearer insight?"

He saw the other man wilt a bit in the back seat. "He said it was like two piece of glass welded together."

Dean winced. He could imagine what the analogy meant, pretty much confirming what he had drawn together from the way Cas had explained it to him. Pretty much, it looked like this was a permanent arrangement for the former ad-salesman. Dean suddenly understood why Jimmy was so intent on getting into this, and why he seemed to have no desire to track down his family. It was probably tearing the dude up, and Dean found himself admiring that strength and resolve yet again. There was a lot more to Jimmy Novak than he gave the guy credit for.

"So, uh..." Dean said, trying to form his thoughts as they spilled out of his mouth. "Other than throw around full-grown men and a pretty awesome impression of a rave, what else can you do?"

He caught Jimmy raise a dubious eyebrow at him in the mirror.

"Nothing, really," Jimmy replied once he realised Dean was asking a serious question. "I actually tried to do it again," he continued. "Nothing. It doesn't seem to be an at-will thing."

"Huh," Dean pondered. He noticed Jimmy looking far away for a moment. He supposed that Castiel was probably talking to him. It was still weird, knowing his friend was still in there somewhere, trapped. The irony was excruciating, when he thought about it. Jimmy had been a prisoner in his own mind for years, and now Cas was in the reverse role. Granted, he could still hear and see everything that was going on, as where Jimmy had been locked away, blind and dreaming, but his ability to interact was now limited. No wonder the dude was crazy, Dean thought sadly.

"Cas says it's possible," Jimmy said after a moment, frowning. "I'm not sure what he said after that, though. I think he's started speaking Enochian..."

"What," Dean snarked. "You don't speak Enochian?"

Jimmy chuckled softly. "Not enough to make that out, apparently."

Dean raised an eyebrow. He had been joking, but... "Seriously? You understand _some _of it? Hell, I've been trying to figure it out for years, and I can't even ask where the damn bathroom is."

This earned him another brief chuckle from the man behind him. "I dunno. I catch bits and pieces of it... like I knew what a couple of the wards were back at the cabin. Like the one over the door means 'forbidden', I dunno. It's weird. Can't really explain it."

"Huh," Dean articulated again. Jimmy was one hell of a mystery, and he was genuinely starting to like the guy. He guessed they'd figure it all out eventually. And maybe, he hoped, find a way to fix all of this, hopefully without losing either of his friends. A guy could hope, right?

.

.

(**A/N: **The boys are finally on their way to the plot! Of course, the story is ultimately about Jimmy, but it's also about getting Dick (snickers childishly). Next up, Hoople, North Dakota! I know I've done a few things out of sequence in terms of the original script, but when you throw one element out of whack, everything else kind of goes to hell. I also want to take a moment to thank everyone who has been following and leaving reviews so far, in particular FireChildSlytherin5 and Colleen. You guys have really kept me going on this, and I appreciate the motivation! I look forward to everyone's reactions with each chapter, you guys are the bee's knees!)


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: There Will Be Blood

It only took about twenty minutes for Jimmy to decide. He really, _really_ hated waiting in the car.

It wasn't that he was particularly enthusiastic about the possibility of meeting the big daddy of all vampires face to face, and to be honest just looking at the big colonial era house gave him chills. But it beat being stuck out in the middle of nowhere, alone in a beat up old car with only a handgun and a machete for backup. He also couldn't shake the distinct feeling that he _wasn't_ alone.

Every so often, he would get the feeling as though someone were staring at the back of his head impatiently, someone in the car with him. He could swear that it had gotten about twenty degrees colder since the Winchesters had gone into the house, as well.

"Think we should go check on them?"

_Sam and Dean are capable._

Jimmy sighed, picking up the binoculars off the passenger seat and peering toward the house. There were no lights on, save the bottom floor, and he hadn't seen any others in the time they'd been in there. He was pretty sure he should at least have seen some flash lights or something, but the house remained still and quiet. At least, he thought somewhat grimly, there hadn't been any screaming or gunshots that he could tell.

Another fifteen minutes and Jimmy had had enough of waiting.

"Screw it," he said aloud. "I'm going to go check..."

_Dean-_

"Dean can stuff it. Can't just leave them hanging..."

Jimmy climbed out of battered old car, shutting the door as quietly as he could and heading for the house. The next few seconds after that were a blur.

He felt the impact of something solid knock him off his feet, the machete flying out of his hand. He heard something snarl next to his ear, hot breath on his skin and an overwhelming coppery scent underscored by decay.

He let out a cry of surprise and pain as he was driven into the stone path and felt something in his right shoulder give way. He struggled to get the pistol from its position at the small of his back, all while trying desperately to keep the thing attacking him from getting at his throat. Putting his left arm between himself and gnashing teeth, he managed to get the gun free finally, only to find that the creature had been torn off him in a cold gust that swept the breath from his lungs.

When he got his bearings, he saw a surly looking older man with a rust coloured beard and a frayed baseball cap holding what, as far as Jimmy could ascertain, looked like a vampire against one of the old, solid oaks that lined the pathway.

The older man turned toward Jimmy with an exasperated roll of his eyes and barked "Well, don't just stand there gawking, ya idjit, get the damn machete and take his friggin' head off!"

Jimmy stammered something that tried to be an affirmative, and then, remembering how his limbs were supposed to coordinate, rolled to his right to close the distance between himself and the blade and grabbed it, feeling pretty damned cool when he managed to get onto his feet in the same motion.

The elder hunter (at least, Jimmy assumed he was a hunter- he had the look, like he'd seen too much screwed up crap in his life and made regular attempts to dull the edge with strong drink) seemed a bit strained. Jimmy was impressed at the man's strength, and if his adrenaline wasn't running so high, he might have worried more about the way the man seemed to almost blur at the edges, as though not completely there.

He didn't have more than a moment to ponder the observation, however, because with a flicker and a brief flash, the man was gone- leaving him alone, facing the vampire.

"Crap," Jimmy breathed, his confidence waning as he back pedaled away from the pissed off vampire.

_You'll need to remove its head to kill it,_ Castiel helpfully supplied.

The vampire rushed him and, in a knee-jerk reaction of sheer panic, Jimmy let out a terrified cry and swung the machete with both hands, his eyes screwed shut and bracing for the impact that would more than likely end his life.

He waited, every muscle tensed, machete still extended in the follow through of the swing, nearly hyperventilating.

There was a dull thud as something hit the ground.

There was another thud as something larger hit the ground.

Jimmy cracked an eye open, confused as to why he wasn't being torn apart.

Laying on the ground just a few feet from him was a body in a tan coat and jeans. It took Jimmy a moment to realise that the body's head was no longer attached, laying a few feet away where it had rolled to a stop after falling from the vampire's shoulders, eyes open and staring with a slack, dumbfounded look on it's face beneath dark, disheveled hair.

Jimmy couldn't help it. He started laughing, because it was just so freaking _hilarious_.

[XXXXXX]

Dean had been pacing back and forth in the little hidden bedroom with the girly pink walls. They had found nothing but dead vamps and no sign of the Alpha, but it wasn't a total loss. He and Sam had just finished questioning the dark haired mystery girl, Emily, and were trying to figure out what to do with her. He figured they'd have to take her with them. With all the vampires dead from apparent 'food poisoning', there'd be no one to care for her, and from what she had told them of her abduction at eight years old and being kept 'pure' for the Alpha, Dean didn't think she'd be able to look after herself, either. It wasn't ideal, but maybe, just maybe, she could lead them to the Alpha.

"What's that," Emily asked, eyeing Sam's cellphone curiously.

"Oh, that?" Dean smirked. "That's uh, that's Sam's douche-tracker. Helps us find the Alpha. All we need is an address."

Emily frowned, not quite meeting either man's eyes.

"I don't know," she said. "But I remember things that maybe can help..."

"That's okay," Sam said. "Just do the best you-"

Both hunters tensed as they heard a scream from outside. Dean exchanged a look with his brother, meeting his eyes briefly as they reached the same conclusion simultaneously.

"Jimmy," Sam said.

Dean turned to the girl, giving her his best authoritarian look. "Stay here, we'll be right back."

Emily just nodded, sitting back down on the edge of her frilly pink bed.

Dean was out the door first, followed closely by Sam as they brandished their machetes, Dean pulling his Colt .45 for good measure as they threw open the front door. He imagined a dozen scenarios, none of them good. Maybe the lone vamp Emily had told them about had returned and found Jimmy before he could call them or take off, maybe he'd been ambushed, maybe a hundred damn things. They reached the top step leading down to the walkway, and-

Immediately they stopped, staring at the scene in front of them.

Jimmy stood about twenty feet from the door, laughing his ass off hysterically at a dead vampire, waving his machete at the corpse like it might take offense to his laughter and get back up or something. The right side of his jacket was splattered with vamp blood, and the dude looked like he'd just lost it.

First kill, Dean thought with a smirk. The guy was all right.

Holstering his gun, he thought briefly he should be pissed at Jim for leaving the car, for not calling like he was supposed to, for a few things, as well, but seeing the dude lose his shit over a freaking bottom-feeder vamp had just made Dean's night.

"Dean, did-" Sam stammered, sounding just as amused.

Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder, lowering the machete and meandering over to his hysterical teammate.

"Hey," he said, sharply enough to get Jimmy's attention. "Jimbo- you with us man? Hey!"

Jimmy finally stopped long enough to look up at Dean, still breathing like he'd just run a mile.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the man, and the dude promptly lost it again, dropping the machete and pointing at the fallen vampire.

"Yeah, Jim..." Dean couldn't help a bit of a smile. "Yeah, good job, man."

Sam gave Dean a wary look as the elder Winchester turned back and shrugged.

"Sam," Dean sighed. "Get Emily and bring her out to the car. I've got this."

Sam nodded and headed back in to collect the girl while Dean walked over to Jimmy, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he said, establishing eye contact. "You okay?"  
Jimmy chuckled and shook his head. "I seriously thought I was about to die," he said gravely, holding Dean's severely for a moment before cracking a wide grin.

Dean grinned back, putting an arm around the other man's shoulder. "Not bad," Dean said. "Not bad at all. Killed your first blood sucker. 'Course you were _supposed _to stay in the car, but what the hell, man. Drinks on me tonight."

Jimmy stopped suddenly, frowning.

"What," Dean questioned, giving him a searching look. Was he about to lose it again?

"There was another guy here," Jimmy said. "I think he was a hunter..."

Dean frowned. He and Sam had been in the house the whole time.

"The vampire," Jimmy paused before going on. "The vampire jumped me out of _nowhere_. I think it would've torn my throat out if that other guy hadn't pulled it off me."

"What did this mystery hunter look like, Jim?" Dean had a sinking feeling, but also felt a surge of pride and gratitude. He could only assume...

"Kinda burly, red hair with a beard... he was wearing a black cap, leather jacket..."

Dean nodded, not saying anything. He had half left the flask in the glove compartment on purpose, but he hadn't really expected Bobby to back Jimmy up. He smiled a bit, grateful to the old man.

His reverie was broken a moment later as Sam came bolting out of the house, dragging a distressed looking Emily along by the hand, brackish black goo dripping off the machete in his other hand.

"DEAN! GET TO THE CAR!"

Dean didn't need to be told twice.

"Move!" He gave Jimmy a shove and the four sprinted the distance to the old car, scrambling at the doors as Dean glanced back and saw what had freaked his brother out.

Staggering out the front door he saw a familiar shape, half lumbering due to the only partially connected state of his head to his shoulders.

Edgar. Leviathan.

They weren't the only ones tracking down the Alpha.

"What the _hell_ is that?!" Jimmy shrilled as he tore the back passenger door open, at least having the sense to get Emily into the back before hastily getting himself in and slamming the door.

Dean said nothing yet, reminding himself to thank Jimmy later for having the intuition to leave the keys in the ignition, twisting the keys with a grinding shudder from the engine, just as Edgar seemed to regain his bearings, sprinting toward them at a full-out run.

Emily shrieked as the tires squealed, peeling out on the gravel road before gaining traction, speeding away from the charging Leviathan just as it had closed the distance.

The creature gave chase for roughly a hundred yards before coming to a stop, staring after them. Dean watched the figure receding in the review mirror, not releasing the breath he held until he could no longer make out the shape of the Leviathan behind them.

Exhaling harshly, he looked to Sam, glancing him over for injuries.

"Sammy," he said urgently. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, breathing a sigh of relief. "He came out of nowhere, tried to grab the girl... we got lucky."

Dean split his attention between his brother and the dark road ahead, nerves on edge.

Glancing into the rear view mirror, he caught Jimmy's far off look as he frowned, followed by an edge of panic as he jerked his eyes toward the front of the car.

"That," Jimmy said stiffly. "That was a Leviathan?!"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "Nasty sons of bitches..."

"We're screwed, aren't we?"

Dean caught the other man's eyes in the mirror. "Not yet."

Not if Dean could help it, anyway.

(**A/N: **Hurray! An action-y chapter! Shit's startin' to get real. Also, yay for awesome!Bobby! His role was brief, but the old guy (spirit?) definitely kicks some ass.)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

"Ready? On three... One," _**CRACK!**_

Jimmy cried out in surprise as the pain shot down his arm, grinding his teeth into the strip of leather belt in his mouth as Dean jerked his right arm sharply upward and back, knee against Jimmy's ribs as he sat on the curb behind the gas station, resetting the shoulder he had dislocated during his scuffle with the vampire a few hours before.

They were now stopped at a gas station in Surrey, North Dakota off highway 2. Once the adrenaline rush of the events that had unfolded at the vampire's lair had worn off and it had been determined they were in no danger of the Leviathan catching up with them right away, Dean had pulled off to fill up the tank and grab some refreshment, throwing a miniature tantrum when Sam had pointed out that Jimmy appeared to have been injured in his scuffle with the vampire.

"You know," Dean said after setting the dislocated appendage. "For a bad-ass who took a vamp's head off with a dislocated shoulder and didn't complain about it for six freakin' hours, you sure do cry like a girl."

"Thanks," Jimmy muttered, rubbing his now sore but no longer agonizingly pained shoulder.

"Sure, man. Hey, you stay here with the car, I'm gonna go catch up with Sam."

Jimmy nodded, heading back to the pump, rubbing his now tingling fingers.

He got into the car quietly in the back, next to the sleeping girl they had picked up in Hoople. Sam had explained that she had been kept at the house by the Alpha, locked away in a hidden room for years, and that she might be able to lead them to their next destination. It was going to be a long haul, given that the Leviathan was on their tail- they were running short on time if Dick Roman had learned about the weapon they were trying to put together and had to haul ass if they were going to beat him to the Alpha.

He remembered seeing the thing when it had come out of the house. Not the way he saw Meg, half visible beneath a mask of flesh. This monster was a full blown, hissing nightmare of jagged teeth, a pair of serpentine tongues and slick, grayish pink flesh. It had vaguely resembled something humanoid, a thing dozens of times its apparent mass pressed into a man-shaped mould. It had been utterly grotesque, a mockery of natural beauty and purity, and Jimmy had a feeling he was going to be seeing that thing in his nightmares for years to come.

"So," Jimmy said quietly, trying not to disturb his backseat companion. "What do you know about Leviathans?"

There was a long pause when he thought that the angel might not answer, or had maybe retreated once more as he had done a few times before. Castiel was still weak, but had seemed to be doing far better in the last few days.

_They are... God's first creations,_ the angel said finally, a tentative edge to his 'voice'. _They were made long before even angels. They were powerful and had an insatiable hunger, and when God made other creatures to walk the Earth, he sealed them away in Purgatory for fear that they would consume all that He had made._

"And you let them out," Jimmy stated incredulously.

More silence from the broken angel. Jimmy felt a pang of guilt, which was somewhat confusing, considering he didn't feel guilty about reproving Castiel for his actions. Was he getting some sort of emotional backlash from the angel now, as well?

Jimmy sighed. "I know, you said you were trying to restore order or whatever, you thought you were helping, but... did the thought never occur to you that it was dangerous?"

_...Yes,_ the angel replied after a long, awkward pause, to Jimmy's amusement sounding like a child who has just been forced to admit to doing something he knew was against the rules. _Raphael was-_

"You didn't think to ask your friends for help?" Jimmy couldn't keep the heated edge from his tone. He had come to some sort of acceptance of the situation that Castiel had in effect created, but having seen one of the creatures with his own eyes, the anger was renewed that the angel would allowed such a horror into the world. "You _knew_ those things were there. You _knew _it was dangerous, and you did it anyway! And worse, you used me to do it!"

"Who are you talking to?"

Jimmy was startled by the soft, inquisitive voice that spoke from beside him, jumping a bit as his anger at the angel turned brittle and fell away, along with the rather distinct impression of a door being slammed as the Castiel retreated.

Emily was watching him, fully awake, her eyes curious and maybe even a little fearful.

Sighing, Jimmy gave her a lame smile. "No one. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

He was spared any awkward silence when he heard Sam and Dean returning a moment later, pulling open the front doors and getting into the car with, Jimmy noted, near perfect synchronicity.

"All I'm saying is," Dean said petulantly, apparently in the middle of a heated argument with his brother. "If I don't get some red meat into my system soon I'm gonna go into _shock_."

"Dean," Sam countered with an eye rolling sigh. "Can we just go?"

"A burger, Sammy. And some pie. That's all I want. Stupid freakin' Leviathans..."

Still complaining, Dean turned the ignition. Moments later, they were back on the highway, heading West and on into Montana, their only source of direction being the mysterious girl they had rescued from a house full of vampires.

[XXXXXX]

After some creative questioning and even more creative math, it had appeared as though bringing Emily along had been a good thing after all, offering information that helped the Winchesters deduce that the Alpha's stronghold was in Missoula, Montana. Jimmy couldn't help being a little impressed when they pulled up in front the monastery and the girl had confirmed that she knew the place, that the vampire had brought her here.

They only spent a few minutes casing the place before Dean decided that Emily should be taken somewhere safe, opting to check in to a motel and paying up for a couple of days in case things got messy. Dean had insisted that Jimmy stay behind as well, to keep an eye on Emily.

The Winchesters had taken off shortly after checking in, making sure that Jimmy had a few weapons on hand out of routine precaution. Dean had put a couple of things into the safe in the room's closet and then the brothers had departed, off to confront the Alpha vampire and acquire the blood needed for the weapon to kill Dick Roman and end the Leviathans.

Emily was now seated on one of the room's two beds, flipping through the channels on the antiquated television set. Sam had left his laptop behind, so Jimmy had decided to spend the time babysitting to catch up on recent events. He was fairly surprized to find that there was little mention of the Apocalypse aside from a few conspiracy theorist websites and some far-right religious groups.

"What's a Kardashian..." Jimmy turned to find the girl staring intently at the screen, some entertainment show featuring a couple of strung-out looking pampered supermodel types interviewing with the show's host.

"Probably a Leviathan," Jimmy quipped.

Emily gave him a worried, slightly skeptical look.

"Ah," Jimmy cleared his throat. "Sorry, joke... I dunno, I'm kind of out of the loop myself..."

"Oh," she said, then resumed her idle channel surfing.

Jimmy lost track of how much time had passed as he waded through news sites, going over what he could find on Dick Roman. He knew the evil-plot side of the man, but the Winchesters had said little about SucroCorp or Richard Roman Enterprises from a world-view standpoint, and he figured if he could dig up anything useful, he might as well.

He was vaguely aware of Emily sliding off the bed at some point, padding quietly to the bathroom as he absorbed the information on the screen. He didn't hear the door open, however, when she came back out. He also didn't hear when she slowly and carefully picked up the heavy telephone off the table by the television set.

He hardly noticed Emily at all until he felt the heavy, blunt impact of the phone against the base of his skull, shutting the lights out as he toppled out of the chair onto the floor.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy wished whoever was yelling would shut the hell up. He scowled, his eyes wrenched tightly closed against consciousness, wondering vaguely how much he had drunk the previous night, if he had kissed any demons, and how pissed Amelia was going to be when he finally did rejoin the waking world.

Amelia. Wait, that's not right. He wasn't at home...

"Get your ass up, boy!"

The gruff, vaguely familiar voice barking in his ear finally brought him around, his vision doubling briefly as he struggled to focus on the face of the man looming over him.

"Welcome back," the man scowling down at him huffed. "Now, you need to get your butt up and call Sam and Dean so you can warn 'em that girl's been playin' them from the get go."

Jimmy frowned up at the man in the black baseball cap, the memory coming to him a few moments later- the hunter who'd saved his ass back in Hoople. The man who had mysteriously vanished after holding off the vampire long enough for Jimmy to get back on his feet. The man who wasn't really a man at all.

Jimmy's eyes shot wide, scooting back from the spirit in front of him, searching the room for salt, or iron, or anything he could use and OW his head freaking hurt.

The grizzled old spirit sighed, raising his hands in a hapless, frustrated gesture with a roll of the eyes.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, ya idjit. But that Emily girl's on her way to her 'daddy's' house as we speak."

"Wha- who the hell are you," Jimmy stammered as he got to his feet.

_That is Bobby Singer. Or, it was. That is, regrettably, my fault. Odd, that he is still here..._

"...Bobby Singer?"

The spirit raised an eyebrow at him curiously, folding his arms over his chest. "You know me?"

"No," Jimmy admitted, still not quite grasping what was going on. "But Ca- I mean, I've heard of you."

Bobby snorted haughtily. "I know about your hitchhiker, kid, but bigger picture time. You need to get your ass in gear, pronto."

Jimmy went over the details of the last sixty seconds in his head. The spirit had said that the girl, Emily, was on her way to the monastery, and that the Winchesters were probably in trouble.

"Well," Bobby spat impatiently. "MOVE!"

Jimmy jumped as the lamp on the nightstand between the beds cracked and the television blew out at the force of the spirit's command.

He didn't wait around to tempt the angry ghost. He grabbed what weapons the brothers had left him and exited the room in a hurry.

He thought he heard the former man mutter "_Idjit" _just before the door slammed shut behind him, flying down the hall and nearly crashing into a young woman with long, dark hair in a pink uniform, pushing a cart of linens down the hall.

"Sorry," he threw back at her as he hit the stairwell door and raced down the stairs, feeling like an idiot for not keeping a closer eye on the girl.

(**A/N: **I had such a hard time writing this chapter, there are so many other plot points on my mind that I just want to dive right into! But one thing at a time... we have to get there before it can happen. These things cannot be rushed ;) I'm excited to get through this 'episode' (of course following in the shadow of 7x22 "There Will Be Blood" and get started on shadowing "Survival of the Fittest", because that's when the fun will really start! Shame on Jimmy for blowing up on poor Cas :( Cas was just trying to fix Heaven ._. And yay for Bobby again! Do you think it'll go the same? Or do you think things will be different in this version of reality? I guess we'll see.)


	15. Chapter 15

(**A/N**: Hey guys! Sorry for the long-time-no-update. I got a little sidetracked with another story that popped into my head and decided to take a teeny tiny break from this one while I sorted it all out. Here it finally is, though! Chapter 15! Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 15: Don't Fear the Reaper

As Jimmy bolted up the street, he realised belatedly that he had left his phone on the table by Sam's laptop and thus had no way of calling Sam and Dean to warn them of Emily's deception. The monastery was a little over a mile outside of the town proper, and he figured if he could keep a steady pace he could reach it in about nine minutes or so. Thank God Castiel hadn't wrecked his physique. He had been a runner before the whole Apocalypse business, going out for a jog most evenings and sometimes in the morning if he woke up early enough.

"I don't suppose," he puffed after a couple of blocks. "You know of a way to contact them?"

_No. I lack the telepathic ability to reach others at long distances. However..._

"However wha-"

He didn't get the chance to finish the question, because a moment later he felt something unfold from within him, a faint crackle of energy as he felt the air twist around him as though some large, mythical bird had suddenly plucked him up from the sidewalk and whisked him off his feet, much the same as had happened when he had found himself in Australia.

He hit the ground running just outside the monastery gates, where they had pulled up the previous night to case the place. In his moment of confusion and shock at being suddenly _teleported_ without warning, he stumbled and lost his balance, crashing into the wrought iron gate.

"The hell! Give me some warning when you're going to do that!"

_I'm sorry, I thought that you-_

"Yeah, it's fine," Jimmy huffed irritably. "Just, lemme know next time..."

Shaking off the last remnants of disorientation, he carefully crept up to the house. It was weird how with his adrenaline rushing like this, he found that this sort of subterfuge was coming almost as a second nature. He was scared shitless, being out here essentially on his own when not only was the monastery full of vampires, the _Alpha_, the _king _of vampires was in there as well.

If he got caught off guard, he was done.

Figuring the front door wasn't an option, he crept around toward the back, peeking into the low windows briefly as he crept along below them until, finally, in what looked like a library, he saw what he was looking for.

Sam and Dean stood by the massive oak door, alternately trying to open it as they seemed to be bickering with each other. Typical, Jimmy smirked.

_I'm going to do it again._

Jimmy barely had time to wrap his mind around the fact that Castiel had just spoken before he found himself in the library with the brothers, who merely turned and stared gape-mawed at him.

"Uh, hey..." Jimmy tried on a lame smile.

"What the hell," Dean started at him. "How the hell did you get here?"

"Uh, long story short?" Jimmy shrugged. "The girl knocked me cold, Bobby told me what happened and said I should warn you, so Cas brought me here."

The brothers exchanged a look before turning back toward him.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Emily showed up here to warn her... 'daddy'. To make matters worse, Edgar is here, too."

"Edgar?" Jimmy didn't know the name.

"The Leviathan that jumped us last night," Dean supplied. Jimmy shuddered recalling the horror of seeing the creature without its mask. "And what do you mean, _Bobby_ told you what happened?"

Jimmy could see the sudden unease in Dean as the hunter shifted his stance slightly, his eyes narrowed with foreboding.

"He, uh," Jimmy stumbled over his words. "He woke me up and..."

"So wait," Dean cut him off. "Bobby talked to you?"

"Yeah," Jimmy was starting to realise that Bobby must be kind of a big deal, and a bit of a touchy subject to the other man.

Dean turned back to Sam, who seemed equally troubled by the news.

"So," Jimmy said, figuring changing the subject was probably in everyone's best interests at the moment. "What do we do now?"

"Well," Dean said with a frustrated, clipped edge to his tone. "Pac-man and True Blood are in there discussing some kind of contract, and that don't mean anything good for us. We tried to tell the Alpha that the Leviathans were poisoning the food supply, but when Edgar showed up we got shoved in here."

Sam sighed, agitated and worried. "We're his enemy, they're practically like monster cousins. Who do you think he's going to give the benefit of a doubt to?"

"I think you got the oldest monster on Earth thinkin' he can hold his own because he always has."

"Point is," Sam continued. "We need to get the hell out of here before the Alpha decides we're a better bargaining chip than we are a snack."

"Yeah, good thing someone decided it was a better idea to hash things out with the Count and give our weapons up."

Sam bitch-faced his brother in response. Jimmy was starting to get fed up with the brothers' bickering given the situation they'd found themselves in.

"I got one vial of vamptonite left," Dean smirked with a proud look in his eyes as he pulled a syringe from his boot. "Think we can make it count?"

The tension in the room settled as Sam gave his brother an exasperated smile.

"See if you can find something to pick that lock with," Dean said, then turned to Jimmy. "You should probably stay here or, if you can, get outside."

Jimmy sighed, feeling like he'd come all this way for nothing after all. They'd already found out about Emily, long before he got here, apparently, and they were already working out a plan to break out and get past the Alpha.

_Go put your hand on the door._

Jimmy blinked, frowning at the abrupt instructions.

_Trust me._

Jimmy shook his head, then did as he was told, placing his hand just above the handle.

He felt something shift beneath his palm, and the door clicked, swinging open easily.

The brothers turned and stared at him, having been working the needle off of one of the numerous IV bags that stood on stands around the room.

"How the," Dean started, then shook his head. "Nevermind, come on."

Jimmy couldn't help the smug grin that crept across his face as he followed the Winchesters out of the room.

[XXXXXX]

Things were hectic once they had made good their escape. As they reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to where the Alpha now was, one of the vampires seemed to melt out of the shadows, grabbing Sam around his torso and pinning his arms. Dean struck with the _vamptonite_ syringe, which instantly downed the vampire, sending him to the floor screaming and burning from the inside out.

"Friggin' vamptonite," Dean grinned. "Now all we need is knives. There's gotta be a prep room or a kitchen, somewhere."

Dean wasn't sure if it would better to send Jimmy out to the car or keep him close. The way things were going, the latter seemed the better option.

Cas seemed to be taking a more active role, as well, he noted. And Bobby, well. Looks like Jimmy had found out about their secret companion, so that cat was out of the bag. He'd deal with Bobby later, but again he was thankful that the guy had been looking out for Jimmy, even if he hadn't been too happy about getting left behind.

They found a full service kitchen on the first floor and, grabbing what weaponry they could find that would be serviceable against either a vampire or a Leviathan, or both, they headed upstairs to where they had last seen the Alpha.

Dean saw with some satisfaction that the two monsters were now in each other's faces, but quickly realised this was a bad thing. If Edgar overpowered the vamp, they would lose their shot at getting Dick, and they'd be back at square one without a hope of stopping the Leviathans.

Begrudgingly, he crept up behind the big mouthed bastard.

"Don't squirm," Edgar said to the vampire. "I need every last drop."

Dean saw as the monster's head snapped back, revealing the gaping, crag-toothed maw of the Leviathan that lurked beneath the mundane mask, and pounced- but monster caught on at the last second, whipping around to face the hunter as its arm snaked out, catching his right arm and halting the long knife that Dean had nearly succeeded in bringing down on the thing's neck.

Dean fought like a rabid wildcat, but lost the knife in the process as it was knocked from his hands, Edgar grabbing the lapels of his jacket in his fists and lifting him off the ground.

_Shit,_ he thought profoundly.

Just as he was about to call for Sam to back him up, the monster's eyes went wide, his head lolling to one side and simply rolling off his shoulders. He saw Jimmy standing behind the monster, a wild look in his eyes. He prayed that the guy wasn't going to go into another fit like he had the previous night, but the other man just gave him a fleeting smile and then kicked the head away from the Leviathan's body, looking as though it might turn and bite him.

Dean grinned as the now headless body fell away from him, its hands releasing his coat as it hit the floor with a thud.

Then he settled his eyes on the Alpha, his eyes going cold and calculating.

"Sammy," he said. "Get a glass. We're juicing this freak."

"No!" Emily sprang from behind the tall chair at the head of the table as Dean advanced on the vampire.

"Stay back," the hunter warned, but his efforts to ward the girl off were met by a glancing blow from the Alpha that sent him flying over the table.

"She's been through quite enough, don't you think?" The Alpha regarded him as he pulled himself up from the awkward tangle of limbs he'd found himself in.

"Now that's rich," Sam snorted. "Coming from the guy who snatched her off the swing-set."

"Do you want to fight," the vampire intoned calmly. "Or do you want my blood?"

Dean watched as the monster sat calmly at the table, regarding Sam and Jimmy, cool and collected, and pointedly ignoring Dean. He reached for a silver goblet set on the table, placing it in front of him as he cut a slit into his wrist, allowing the blood to drip into the cup with idle fascination, then lifted the half-full cup, handing it to Jimmy. Poor guy didn't look like he knew what to do with it, looking over to Dean as though he'd just been handed a live nuke.

"For taking care of Edgar," the vampire smiled with all the sincerity of a practiced charlatan. "Now go."

Dean stood still for a moment, not really sure how to take this turn of events. On one hand, he didn't want to just leave the vamp to his own devices, given the death that doing so would invoke. But on the other hand, the bastard had just done them a solid by handing over what they needed without a fight. Dean hated this moralistic crap sometimes.

"Come on," he growled to his companions and started for the door.

"What," the Alpha purred as they all turned their backs on him to leave. "No thank you? Your flesh must be crawling. All you really want to do is kill me now, you hate having to wait and come back to try again."

Dean half turned, giving the vampire a sour look. "Yeah, pretty much." He glanced to the headless Leviathan currently staining the carpet with black ichor. "Oh, and I wouldn't leave that head too close to that body for too long."

"Until next time," The vampire smiled, sending chills down Dean's spine.

"Looking forward to it." Dean grinned back, then followed his companions down the stairs and out to the car.

[XXXXXX]

The glow of success faded the instant they got back to the motel room.

The door was ajar, and Sam and Dean both instantly ceased their recap of the recent events and reached for their guns. Jimmy was still stuck carrying the silver chalice containing the Alpha's blood, so he figured that staying back until they knew what was going on would probably be the better idea.

Dean went in first, followed by Sam as he flicked the light on.

The room was in shambles, the television's screen blown out, the mirror across the room cracked down the middle. Both lamps had been knocked off their tables, one shattered, and the other, now casting light through the room, merely lay on its side on the floor, shade askew, and a service cart lay on its side in the middle of the room, towels and motel-room sized generic toiletries spilled across the carpet.

Jimmy cautiously followed them in as the brothers lowered their guns, both seeming troubled and dismayed.

"He's gone," Dean said, giving Sam a pointed look as he stood in front of the open safe in the wall closet.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Survival of the Fittest

Jimmy stood in the middle of the salt ring, feeling a little foolish and a lot terrified, and Castiel wasn't helping.

The angel had gone quiet since they had arrived back at the cabin, metaphorically (or maybe literally) curling himself into a ball and going into hiding wherever it was he had attached himself to Jimmy's soul.

The entire drive back to the cabin had been Sam and Dean up front in the car talking over each other regarding what to do about the missing Bobby Singer.

They never said anything to Jimmy directly, but he had put it together from the fragments of their conversation that Bobby had been like a father to them, and Dick Roman had killed him a few months prior. Dean had kept a silver flask that Bobby had on him when he died, and Bobby's spirit had hung on through the object, despite having been given a 'hunter's funeral'.

They had decided there was nothing they could do about it just now. Bobby had most likely possessed the maid at the motel, figured out the code to the safe and taken off with the flask. They had no way to track their friend's vengeful spirit, and no time to spare from their mission to end Dick Roman.

Once they had arrived at the cabin, Dean had announced that they needed to summon Crowley again in order to finish the weapon. Given the timing and the fact that Meg wasn't there, Sam had suggested putting Jimmy into the salt circle to keep Crowley from getting to him, just in case.

That had been nearly an hour ago.

"So," Jimmy said, shifting his feet. "How long does this usually take?"  
Dean growled, stomping away from the make-shift alter they had set up to summon the demon. "Son of a bitch is standing us up!"

"We summoned him," Sam said, puzzled as to why the demon hadn't shown his face. "Doesn't he kind of have to-"

"If Crowley wants to screw you," Dean interrupted. "He'll find a way to screw you."

"Are you guys sure you did it right?"

Both brothers turned toward Jimmy, giving him a look that said 'shut up' in stereo. Jimmy raised his hands, backing off.

"Maybe he can't come," Sam worried. "Maybe something went wrong..."

"Maybe," Dean sighed, then kicked the leg of the table, sending it skidding several inches and scattering the spell components across the wooden surface. "Damn it! We were _so _close! Figures Crowley would go back on his word..."

"Well," a new voice lilted, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes. "If I'd known you'd brought me a prezzie, I'd have come sooner."

Dean scowled, taking several stalking steps toward the demon, who now stood leaning against the wall in the entryway to the cabin's small kitchen, near the circle of salt in which Jimmy was standing.

Jimmy's first impression of the demon Crowley was that he was shorter than he had expected him to be. The face he could almost see beneath the meat suit, however, sent a shiver down his spine. The demon radiated power that he could feel through the barrier of salt that separated him from the king of Hell.

"Castiel," Crowley mused. "When last we spoke, you enslaved me. I'm confused- why aren't you dead?"

"That's not Cas, ass-hat," Dean rumbled.

"No?" The demon arched an eyebrow at the hunter, inclining his head. "I must be out of the loop, because it certainly _looks _like our dearly departed, back-stabbing, self-proclaimed God."

"Um," Jimmy said as Crowley's eyes settled on him like a physical weight. He got the feeling that the ring of salt was little more than a token gesture of safety, and that if the demon really wanted to, it wouldn't keep him from getting through. "Cas didn't make it, after the uh, the Leviathans..."

He could see the demon contemplating this, seeming to weigh what he was seeing and hearing. Jimmy wondered if powerful demons such as Crowley must be could see other supernatural creatures as Castiel, and by proxy he himself could see them. Technically speaking, it was the truth- Cas hadn't really come back from being possessed by the Levis- though he had been more helpful recently, he still had a tendency to wander, his thought process rarely coherent for more than a few moments.

"No," Crowley said. "I suppose not. Castiel could never _lie _so easily. Deception, oh yes. But he was a terrible liar. But that just leaves the question, _what _are_ you_, then?"

"None of your damn business," Dean said stiffly, getting in between the the stand-off between Jimmy and the demon. "Now, did you come here to pick a fight, or did you come to help us end Dick? Pick a battle."

"Well, I'm vexed," The demon shrugged. "I'd like to do both, but- ah, well. Pressing matters."

The demon produced a vial from his pocket, offering it to the elder Winchester.

"Really," Sam scoffed. "Just boxed up and ready to go?"

"I'm a model of efficiency," Crowley quipped, giving Sam a smug grin.

"Is that right," the younger Winchester countered. "Then why were you late?"

"Dick had me in a devil trap," Crowley shrugged, as if this were no big deal. "He's not an idiot, he knows what you're after."

"So," Sam said, folding his arms as he stepped closer to his brother. "What did he offer you?"

"A fair deal, in exchange for the wrong blood." The demon paused dramatically, tilting the vial back and forth, one eyebrow raised as he taunted the Winchesters. "It's demon, but is it mine?"

"Are you guys really going to trust him?" Jimmy was incredulous, off-put by the demon's demeanor and tone, beyond the simple fact that this was the king of Hell- the paragon of demon-kind.

Crowley grinned at him, his eyes positively twinkling with amusement. "Smart boy, never trust anyone! A lesson _I _learned from my last business partner..."

Jimmy found himself withering under the demon's accusatory expression. _Cas, _he thought furiously. _What the hell did you get me into..._

"All right," Dean said, holding his hand out. "Give us the blood."

"Certainly," Crowley said as he deposited the vial into Dean's outstretched palm. "As a bonus, I won't take your Castiel-doppleganger just yet. I've a feeling you'll be needing him to get Dick."

Jimmy frowned. Why would they need him? From the impression the Winchesters had given him, he didn't think he was even going with them when they went after the leader of the Leviathans. "What's so special about me?"

Crowley snorted at him. "Oh, don't play coy- it doesn't suit you. You've got a little angel in you- I'm assuming it's whatever's left of the supposedly-deceased Castiel. Given the particulars of your enemy, you're vital- as much as I'd love to rip the treacherous little cherub right out of you, it isn't exactly conducive to our mutual... interests."

The words sent a shiver down Jimmy's spine, and distantly, he could sense Castiel recoil as well. He was going to have to watch his back once this whole situation was done- he had no doubt that the demon would pursue the idea once the Leviathans were no longer a threat.

"Back off, Crowley," Dean warned, securing the vial in his pocket.

"Or you'll what," the demon mocked. "You'll 'gank' me?"

Crowley smirked at the hunter, and then simply vanished with a faint, lingering impression of sulfur in his wake.

[XXXXXX]

Dean read over the instructions from Kevin's translation, pacing back and forth in front of the table that now held all four of the components needed to create their weapon against Dick. The whole thing felt so damned sketchy. They had just one shot at this- one chance to cut off the head and topple the empire the Levis had built over the last year. Crowley's admission that Dick had tried to bargain him over to their side didn't help the sourness in the pit of his stomach, either, but they were out of time and out of options. If this didn't work, they were essentially screwed, anyway.

"This thing don't reload," he said, sighing as he tossed the notebook down on the table beside the bowl, where the bone now sat, waiting for them to be completed.

Sam lifted up the vial of demon blood, regarding it before moving his eyes up to Dean's. "You think Crowley's, uh.."

"Double crossing us?" Dean asked. "You've got to figure out who he wants dead more- us, or Dick?"

Sam sighed, glancing over toward the main kitchen area, where Jimmy now sat nursing a beer. The dude hadn't taken the encounter with Crowley well, and was now as far as Dean could tell silently panicking about what the demon had said in regards to Castiel. Dean had no doubt the king of Hell would try, not that he or Sam had any intention of letting it happen if they could help it.

"It depends on what Dick offered him," Sam said, returning his attention to the conversation. "So, do we..."

"Uh," Dean said, catching on after a moment. "There's no magic words or anything, we just... go."

"All right, then." Sam uncapped the vial of Crowley's blood, pouring it over the bone as Dean picks up the vial of blood they had gotten out of Cas before Jimmy had tumbled back to reality, kicking and screaming. Last, Sam pours the Alpha's blood over the bone and they wait. Dean braces himself for a crash of thunder, a loud boom, maybe a flash of light- but nothing happens. Nothing at all.

"Uh," Dean says, staring at the bowl containing the now-bloodied bone. "Where's all the thunder and lightning?"

"Er," Sam agreed. "_Maybe_ it worked?"

"Awesome."

Sam sighed, running his fingers back through his hair. "It's what we've got, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Next stop, Chomperland. Let's hope this works, or we are in for a whole world of 'screwed'.

(**A/N:** Whew! We're nearing the conclusion! That doesn't mean there's not a whole lot of stuff left to cover :) There'll be a few surprises when our boys get to Chicago. Thank you all so much for your continued support! Your reviews are the fuel to the fire that burn the words onto the page. Until next chapter, which will have more content in regards to the main plot, and less so with the canon plot- and will also hopefully be longer. I have such a hard time with these 'filler-episodes' as I call them. They're necessary to the overall story, but don't do much for the AU aspects of the plot :\ ah well. Soon!)


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: This Ain't a Scene

They set out for Chicago before daylight the following day. The bone, washed in the three bloods of the fallen, nestled in an igloo cooler, wrapped in plastic and secured in the trunk of the Impala. They had no guarantee that it would work, but it was the best chance they had against Dick Roman and his empire of flesh eating monsters.

It was roughly thirteen hundred miles from Whitefish to the Windy City, and Dean had insisted he could make it in under 18 hours.

The long car ride wasn't what bothered Jimmy. What bothered him was the terse silence in the car that had perpetuated throughout the morning since they had set out on the highway. It also bothered him that, every so often, he caught Dean glancing back at him in the rear view with an unreadable expression.

They were just now crossing the Montana to South Dakota state line when Jimmy finally broke, catching Dean do it _again._

"What," he said, maybe a little more harshly than he had intended. So far the only conversation in the car had been the one-sided monologue of one moderately insane angel, and even with Led Zepplin blaring over the car's speakers, the single syllable cut the air like a knife.

Dean returned his eyes to the mirror, holding his eyes for a moment before looking back to the road ahead.

"...How're you doing with all this, Jim?" Dean spared his attention between the road and the back seat.

"Which part?" There was a lot of 'this' and 'that'. Jimmy was pretty certain Dean was referring to their encounter with the demon, Crowley, the previous night. Or perhaps the demon's insistence that he was vital to taking down the Leviathans.

"You know what," Dean scowled back at him in the mirror. "You do realize there's a pretty freaking good chance this isn't going to work and we're not walking out of Casa de Dick in one piece."

Jimmy blinked at the retort. Was Dean offering him a chance to back out?

"Well," Jimmy said after giving it some thought. "I'm pretty screwed no matter what I do, right?"

"Not necessarily," Sam supplied. "What makes you think that?"

Was he serious?

"Are you serious?" Jimmy scoffed. He wondered if these assholes had even been paying attention to anything since he'd started tagging along with them. "Well let's see, for starters, even if I _don't _get eaten by condom monsters with teeth from a dentist's worst nightmare, I've got Crowley to worry about. Even if I didn't have Crowley to worry about, I've got Heaven's most 'special' angel stuck in my head assaulting me with National Geographic trivia and stories about angels I'm pretty sure wouldn't be admissible in Sunday School. And if I didn't have _that, _I'm still pretty much a walking dead man. And you're asking me if I'm afraid of going in there with you? No, shut up, Sam. I'm not finished," he glared at the younger Winchester, who had turned in his seat and attempted to interrupt his tirade. "I know I'm not Cas, okay," he continued, ignoring Dean's wince. "I also know what the hell I'm doing. I can _see _the freaking things, and I think that's what Crowley was getting a. You need me along, and hell, I haven't exactly got anything better going for me right now anyway!"

The brothers exchanged a look in the front seat, both of them looking slightly chastised as the quiet settled over the car again.

_Actually, many of the 'stories' are based on-_

"Shut! up! Cas!" Jimmy was pissed off. Everything was just making him tired, and he was pretty sure he felt one hell of a migraine coming on. It was all getting to be too much, the Winchesters, Castiel, monsters, angels, demons, Heaven, Hell, freaking Leviathans... he knew damned well there was a very good possibility he wasn't walking out of SucroCorp alive, thank you Captain Dean Obvious Winchester. He had assumed as much since he had started working with Sam and Dean that, while he really did believe that he was doing some good by putting the monsters and evil spirits of the world down, it was likely that one of them might take _him _down just as easily.

He hadn't realised this train of logic until after his encounter with the king of Hell.

Part of him didn't _want _to leave SucroCorp in one piece.

He was beginning to to feel himself fraying at the edges from everything that had happened over the last few weeks. His entire world had literally fallen apart. He had nothing left, his family, his home, his job- everything was gone. So why not go in guns blazing? If he went down doing some good in the world, so be it.

And if he _did _manage to survive the upcoming battle with the Leviathans, that was fine, too. There would always be another hunt, another monster. He wouldn't go down easy, not without a fight, but he had sort of come to terms with the fact that he just didn't care anymore, really.

If he died tonight, then so be it.

Dean was watching him again, and Jimmy noticed that the music was gone.

Jimmy sighed, looking out the window, anywhere but where he could see the mirror and Dean's searching looks.

"You're right," Dean said after a long moment, turning his eyes back to the road. "You're not Cas."

Jimmy scoffed, smirking bitterly.

"Cas has more integrity. You're ready to just roll over and let whatever happens happen. You know, if you're looking for an easy out, there's easier ways to do it than becoming monster chow."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, trying his hardest to form daggers out of thin air through the power of his glare.

"I don't exactly have a cho-"

"You ALWAYS have a choice!" Dean's eyes had turned hard, shooting those imaginary daggers right back. "You could've bolted any time, but you didn't. You could've taken off the first time we called Crowley. You could've mojo'd yourself away any damn time you wanted."

"I told you," Jimmy sighed. "I don't have any contro-"

"Yeah well I still think you're full of shit, Jim," Dean continued, cutting him off. "Point is, you didn't have to stick around but you did. You didn't have to start hunting, either. Hell, you could've backed out any freaking time you wanted."

"I think I liked this trip better when we weren't talking," Jimmy huffed.

"Fine," Dean groused. "But any time you want, you just let me know and I'll drop your ass off at the nearest town and you can do whatever the hell you want, because you sure as hell aren't any good to anyone with a freakin' death wish."

Jimmy winced but resolved to say nothing. Dean wasn't wrong. He could have backed out any time. But what would he have done? Where would he have gone? He didn't have anything to run to.

Dean slapped the radio back on, now crooning out Creedence over the speakers at maximum volume. Jimmy saw Sam give Dean one of those pissy looks, turning it down a couple notches and earning a death glare from his brother, but the only words that remained were the whiskey soaked vocals of John Fogarty.

Jimmy leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes.

He wished he could have stayed asleep, wherever it was in the back of his mind that Castiel had hidden him. He missed his fake little family in his fake world with his fake job and fake problems. He would take it back in an instant, but Cas no longer seemed to have the power nor the presence of mind to keep him 'asleep' in his mind. As messed up as it all was, he wished for the fantasy of that dream over the real world, for better or for worse.

He closed his eyes, hoping he could just sleep through the trip. Lately he'd become something of an insomniac, other than passing out drunk and sleeping through that first day.

_You're a mess, Jim, _he thought to himself. _Bet you miss your shitty desk now, don't you._

He smirked bitterly to himself because it was true. He missed the confines of the four gray walls adjoined to the network of cubicles that made up the sales department at the station he worked at. He even missed the bad office jokes and his annoying neighbor in the cube farm who always had that damned radio on playing pop music. He wondered idly if anyone even remembered him.

He was jerked out of his half sleep by a familiar, unwelcome sensation as he felt himself pulled out of the back seat of the Impala, landing on his ass in a sprawl on cheap office carpet, staring out the third floor window onto a familiar view.

Panic streaked through him, accompanied by the disorienting sensation that he was losing his goddamn mind. One look down at himself confirmed that at least part of this was happening- he was still dressed in the black t-shirt, jeans and thick denim jacket stained with vampire blood that he'd thrown on this morning before leaving Whitefish.

"Cas..." he croaked, wondering if this was the angel's idea of some sick joke.

He pushed himself back along the carpet, finding himself inside an empty cubicle. All of the equipment had been moved out of it save for the rolling chair.

He ducked under the bare modular desk, trying to keep out of view. It was maybe ten in the morning, and the station was in full swing- the sales department, especially.

"Crap," he breathed. "Cas... what the _hell _is this?"

There was no response from the angel, however. He was on his own.

Damn it. Maybe Cas was getting some sort of revenge.

He dug in his jacket pocket for the cheap pre-paid phone he had inherited from Castiel, hitting the speed dial.

"Jimmy?" Dean's tone was somewhere between incredulous and worried.

"Yeah," Jimmy breathed, not doing a very good job of keeping the panic out of his voice.

"What the _crap _was that?" Dean was shouting. "Where are you?"

"I- I think I'm in Pontiac.. heheh.."

"You _think_?"

"I don't know!" Jimmy caught himself speaking too loudly, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. "Yeah, I'm in Pontiac... I don't know how I ended up here, though.. I- I think Cas is screwing with me..."

"You have got to be kidding- No, he's in freaking _Pontiac_!"

Jimmy could just imagine the two of them freaking out in the front seat of the Impala. Despite his situation, he smirked at the image.

"Look, whatever," Dean said after exchanging a few words with his brother. "Can you make it back?"

"I dunno," Jimmy admitted. "But right now I'm pretty much the last place I want to be... I can give it a try..."

"... Are you back at your house?" Dean's tone was cautious.

"No. I'm.. heh. I'm at work."

"...You're joking. You bamfed yourself to your _job_?"

"_You have ONE. Minute remaining."_

"_Shit!_ Dean... I'm out of minutes..."

"Okay," he could hear Dean facepalm on the other end of the line. "Okay. If you get cut off and you can't make it back, we're meeting Meg at the Elysian Hotel in Chicago. Get there and stay put."

"The _Elysian?_" Jimmy was dumbfounded. The Elysian was one of the most high-end hotels in the city.

"You need an address? Screw it, just get back or get there, we'll-"

Jimmy didn't catch what else Dean said, because his attention to the conversation was suddenly interrupted by a pair of black slacks and dress shoes.

Shit. This day was going straight to hell, and they hadn't even got to the monster part yet.

[XXXXXX]

"Jimmy? Crap," Dean sighed, tossing the phone back to Sam. "Freaking call dropped..."

"Can he get back?"

"Who knows. Guess we'll find out," Dean sighed. What the hell was he playing at, zapping off like that? Either one of them! Castiel was off his rocker, and Jimmy was just in a God damned pissy mood since they left the cabin.

"Why the hell did you have to say all that crap, anyway," Sam said, going straight to hyperbitch. Gentlemen, we have gone plaid.

"Sammy," Dean grit out. "Not now."

"So what did he say?"

"He said Cas is screwing with him," Dean grumbled. "Last freaking thing we need right now. Freakin' Cas."

Sam sighed, resting his elbow against the frame of the door and staring out the window.

"So," Sam said after a moment. "What do we do?"

"We go to Chicago, Sammy, and we finish the job."

"What if he doesn't show, or something happens to him? Remember, he's technically been dead for the last four years."

"If he doesn't show we finish the job anyway!"

"We could," Sam said, pausing a moment as though the idea didn't necessarily appeal to him. "We could call Meg, see if she can pick him up."

Dean turned and stared at his brother.

Though...

"You know," Dean sighed. "That's not a terrible idea."

Sam stared back at him, disbelieving. "What, you agree with me?"  
"Should I not," Dean shot back, giving his younger brother a 'look'.

"No, I'm just saying- I'm surprized you're going to trust a demon is all."

"Let's not go there, Sam." Dean didn't want to bring _her _up right now. Sam had once trusted Ruby, and that had gone to hell-literally. He wasn't really sure what Sam was trying to get at, suggesting getting Meg to help out and then admonishing the notion by bringing up freakin' Ruby.

"I'll call."

Dean picked up the speed a bit as Sam dialed their begrudging ally to go bail Jimmy Novak's stupid ass out of whatever shitstorm he'd landed himself in.

(**A/N: **One part angst, one part crack to balance it out. Sorry it took me so long to update this! I've been mightily distracted by the awesome that is Devil May Cry. So good! So hard to put down! I'm almost done with it, though, and I promise when I am I'll be cracking out on this again :)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Stone Cold Crazy

.

Jimmy picked at the steel cuffs that bound his wrists to the metal table at the centre of the small interrogation room. He was seated in an uncomfortable metal chair which, as with every other fixture in the room, was bolted securely to the floor.

He sighed at the long, dark mirror along the wall in front of him, knowing full well he was being watched by unseen eyes on the other side. He had been in the room for nearly an hour, wondering if he'd been forgotten by his captors. He had tried to whisper to Castiel, begging the angel to get him out of this mess, but the angel had remained silent.

He found if he stared at the mirror long enough he could make out vague shapes, like ghostly outlines of the humans they represented. There were three, all distinct from each other in colour and texture and expression. A sizzling red leaking hot anger. A crackling pinkish orange fretting with apprehension. A sickly greenish yellow pulsing with pride.

His attempted escape from the radio station offices could certainly have gone better. When the building security officer had found him wedged beneath the desk, he had tried to make a break for it. He bolted past former colleagues and half remembered faces, ignoring the startled shouts that half carried his name after him as he hit the emergency stairwell doors.

He had a vague moment of deja-vu as he hit the crash bar on the bottom level, only to be met at the street by three patrol cars and a half dozen armed police.

It also didn't help much that he had started shouting for Castiel, berating the wounded angel for dumping him off and abandoning him. He had tried to run, but his efforts to escape were thwarted by several pairs of hands clad in blue gloves, driving him face first into the concrete and wrenching his arms behind his back.

They found the gun he'd had holstered in the waistband of his jeans. They found the fake ID and badge. The hunting knife in his boot didn't seem very significant in light of the first two discoveries.

He had given up on Castiel's help. The angel had been silent ever since he had found himself inexplicably in Pontiac. He could still feel the power of his Grace, locked deep down in the depths of... wherever, but the angel had gone still.

He saw the orangy pink silhouette behind the glass move, he presumed, toward a door in the other room. He found this new effect fascinating, following the outline along the wall to his left, wondering if maybe he was losing his grip and seeing things.

He rubbernecked as the silhoutte reached the door behind him, and his curiosity was rewarded by the door handle clacking as the bolt turned, swinging the door inward to allow a fourty-ish man in a sharp grey suit into the room. He was stout, ruddy complected with jet black hair and near black eyes, an FBI insignia pinned to his pastel pink tie.

_Great, _he thought. _Real Feds..._

The Fed set in the bolted chair across the table from him, not looking at him or talking to him. He set a manila folder down in front of him and flipped idly through the pages. Jimmy noticed that it was fairly extensive, containing a number of typed pages and images, but he couldn't see or read from the angle he was sitting.

He really needed to get out of here.

"Mr Novak," the Fed said, still not looking up at him. "Let's start with the basics. I would like to point out that this interview is being video recorded and may be brought to trial."

Jimmy glanced to his right, where a simple CCTV camera was pointed at the table, no doubt feeding everything he had done and said over the last hour directly into the shielded partion beyond the mirrored glass.

The Fed glanced at his wrist watch, then looked directly at Jimmy across the table. "The time is now 1106 on Friday, the 18th of May 2012. My name is Agent Rahima. My role today is to interview you in relation to one hundred six counts of aggravated assault, ninety-two counts of first degree murder and eighteen counts of domestic terrorism. I will be making notes during this interview for my reference."

Jimmy stared at him, his jaw dropping at the list of charges. Assault? Murder? _Terrorism_? Castiel had dug him a deep hole, and now the bastard was hiding, letting him take the heat.

Agent Rahima watched him for a response, making a few notes on a legal pad extracted from the folder in front of him. "Mr. Novak, for the record, could you please state your full name and date of birth?"

"Uh," he said intelligently. "James Novak, my birthday is... uh..."

Jimmy frowned, stumped. He knew this. Didn't he? Who the hell forgets their birthday? It's in August, isn't it? Or was it September...

"Mr Novak?"

"Yeah," Jimmy said, fighting down the niggling panic that tried to creep into his intestines. Why couldn't he remember his goddamn birthday?

"Can you please state your date of birth for the record?"

"Yeah..." Jimmy thought hard. "Um... September..." He was reaching for it, and it frustrated him that the answer seemed to be beyond his grasp.

Rahima watched him for a moment as he struggled, eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the answer in the scratched metal surface of the table.

"Can you please state your age, Mr Novak." The agent made a note on the legal pad, moving on from the question. It did nothing to soothe Jimmy's panic, though.

"Thirty-six." That was right, wasn't it? Why was he having so much trouble with these details? Maybe it was just the pressure. It was ridiculous, and it irked him."

Rahima raised an eyebrow at him, making another note on the pad.

"I want to remind you of your rights, Mr Novak, and be sure that you understand. Anything you say may be used against you in court. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jimmy's head was reeling. He had felt a sense of resigned calm until the questions had started, as though this were happening to someone else. Now he felt as though he was sliding off a cliff into the outer limits.

He barely listened as agent Rahima went over his Miranda Rights again, confirming that Jimmy understood his current position.

"You have the right to free counsel," Rahima finished, looking to Jimmy once more. "Do you require the services of a public defender?"

Jimmy stared at him for a long moment. The agent was asking if he needed a lawyer, which was never a good sign. He could only jump to the conclusion that they had enough evidence to put him away for a good long while. "Yes." It couldn't hurt to cover your bases.

Rahima nodded. "At the end of this interview, I will provide you with a pamphlet that describes what the recording will be used for and how you or your appointed public defender may access these records," he continued. "Now. Can you tell me why you were arrested?"

Jimmy stared at the other man, not sure what to say. They had picked him up in his old building, so he had assumed that it had been for tresspass on private property. But he knew that Castiel had done some terrible things, and Rahima's list of charges hammered that home as hard fact. Still... "Well, I thought it was because I spontaneously appeared in my former place of work armed with an illegal firearm." He tried a lame smile. The cool act worked for Dean, maybe it would work for him...

Rahima eyed him, pencil scratching across that damned notepad once again.

"Please elaborate," the agent said, leaning on his elbows with his fingers steepled in front of him. "What do you mean by 'spontaneously appeared'?"

Jimmy grinned. Maybe he could play off insanity... "I teleported."

"You teleported."

"Yes, sir." Jimmy couldn't believe he was telling the truth. Five years ago he would have committed himself voluntarily for believing this crap. "I was in South Dakota this morning, in the back of my friend's car. I guess we had sort of an argument- I was kind of depressed because of the whole 'angel in my head' thing, and then I teleported."

Rahima stared at him, raising an eyebrow and making yet another note.

"Okaaay," the agent said, clearly not buying the story, but just maybe buying the angle. "And, um, why did you feel the need to teleport to your former place of work?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I didn't. I was just thinking about how much I missed my ordinary life, and then there I was, sprawled on the floor in my old department. Weird, right? I think maybe the angel is just screwing with me."

Agent Rahima was watching him stoically, but Jimmy saw his aura shift and change, the pinkish orange shifting slightly to an uncertain red. He tilted his head, watching the colour run in rivulets across the man's aura, fascinated by it. He'd never really seen anything so... beautiful. It was like watching a living sunset.

"May I ask what you're looking at, Mr Novak?"

Jimmy snapped out of it, aware suddenly that he'd allowed himself to be distracted by all that colour, forgetting for a moment where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

"How's your head feeling, James?" The use of his first name caught him off guard. His head? Oh, right- he scraped it when the police had tackled him. They had cleaned him up and put a bandage over the wound once it had been determined that he hadn't sustained any serious injury from the fall.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "It's uh, it's fine. Doesn't hurt or anything."

Rahima nodded, making another note as he pressed on.

"This, ah, this 'angel' you keep referring to. Is this Castiel?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Can you please confirm for audio, Mr Novak?"

"Yes, uh, the angel's name is Castiel."

There was a pregnant silence as agent Rahima began writing at length on the notepad in front of him. Jimmy shifted, wondering if maybe the truth had been the wrong approach after all. Would they think he was trying for insanity? It was too late to go back on it now.

Rahima looked up to him again finally. "Do you remember where you were between September 12th and September 26th, 2011?"

Jimmy blinked at him. He had been possessed at the time, so naturally he didn't. Was that when Castiel had gone on his God-rampage? "No," he replied. "I was possessed at the time."

"Possessed?"

"Yeah," Jimmy shrugged. "By Castiel."

Rahima nodded, making another note. He then re-stacked the papers he had arranged in front of him, shuffling them back into the manila envelope and closing it with the legal pad placed on top.

"Your medical history indicates that you were treated for Schizophrenia and Dissociative Disorder. Your former psychiatrist, ah.." he consulted a sheet in the folder before continuing "Dr Raymond suggests that you may also have a religious psychosis. Do you remember meeting with Dr Raymond, James?"

Jimmy frowned. Dr Raymond had been his psychiatrist _after _Castiel had taken him, the psychiatrist he had seen in the dream world. He remembered Amelia making him go to see a shrink when Castiel had first approached him, making him take a mental health assessment at a generic clinic at the ER triage after he had dunked his arm in boiling water to 'prove his faith'. He didn't remember the doctor's name, but he was almost certain it hadn't been Dr Raymond.

"James?" Rahima was waiting on him to answer, but Jimmy was stumped. He honestly didn't remember seeing Dr Raymond before Castiel had put him to 'sleep'.

"No," he said honestly. "I remember Ames taking me to the hospital, but I don't remember Dr Raymond."

The agent sat back, watching him from across the table. For the last few weeks, Jimmy had been more or less resigned to the fact that he had been tucked away by the angel while he had been possessed, but nobody had asked him any questions, really. They had all just taken him at face value. But now... now he was questioning himself. He still couldn't remember his birthday. He tried to recall his parents' faces and found that he couldn't.

He remembered some things, like Claire's birthday, and Amelia's. He remembered when he and Ames had met in college, but he couldn't remember their wedding or their anniversary. He began panicking, realising that whole chunks of his life were just.. missing. There were details, but not enough of them. They weren't defined the way they should be. There were impressions overlaying images, but nothing was solid, nothing was cohesive enough.

What the hell had Castiel done to him? Was he really crazy? Everything was fraying all of a sudden. He needed to get out.. he needed to leave this room.

He saw Rahima slowly stand reaching for his sidearm as he felt the handcuffs fall away from his wrists. He held his hands up, wondering suddenly if this was real, or if he had never woken up from his psychosis-induced hallucinations. Was the hospital in Indiana real? His convictions began to waver once more.

"Mr Novak," Rahima was saying from somewhere far away. "Place your hands on the table, please." The agent hadn't yet drawn his gun, but as Jimmy's eyes flicked up at the man he could see white-hot fear surrounding him.

The cuffs were off. Jimmy raised his hands, staring at them as though they belonged to someone else, perplexed by this new development.

"Castiel?" He ventured, hoping the angel had finally woken up and was going to help him.

He glanced toward the door, but it was still firmly closed and undoubtedly locked. He saw the other two dazzling silhouettes leave the room beyond the mirrored wall, rounding toward the interrogation room.

They were met by the sudden appearance of what Jimmy could only describe as a 'presence'. There was no aura, but it felt slick and oily and tainted with sulfur.

The door suddenly flew open and the presence made itself known.

Meg. Meg had come for him and he could see right through her flesh mask, the demon beneath her borrowed skin a thing escaped from the most vivid Lovecraftian nightmare- rotted and putrid and stunningly beautiful in it's grotesqueness.

Jimmy cried out at the sight of her, backing away from the table as Rahima drew his weapon, pointing the barrel at his demonic rescuer.

"Stop!" The agent ordered. "Hands in the air!"

Meg rolled her eyes and, with a flick of her wrist, Rahima flew against the opposite wall, pinned there by a thick web of brackish, oozing force.

Jimmy had backed into the corner, watching Meg, unable to tear his eyes from how he now saw her. It had been bearable before, the half seen shadow of the demon beneath that pretty face. Now, however, she was truly frightening, bursting from the seems of her vessel. Worse still, he could see the broken soul that had once controlled the flesh, shredded and all but discarded, oppressed beneath the blight that was the demon Meg.

Meg strode toward him and grabbed his wrist. He couldn't help flinching at her touch, feeling her repugnant presence on his skin. "Come on, Clarence. Your ride's here."

With little other choice, he allowed himself to be dragged along, out of the interrogation room. "What are you doing here?" He asked. "How did you find me?"

"Oh, that's easy. I could _smell _you."

Jimmy frowned. "So what, you're some kind of bloodhound now?"

"Now's not the time, angel-boy. We're about to get shot at."

She jerked him into another room as five armed officers rounded the corner, aiming their weapons at them. She ripped the handle off the outside of the door and slammed it shut hard enough to jar the metal slab in it's frame, effectively securing them, however temporarily.

"Well, shit," she said, turning toward him and setting her hands akimbo on her hips. "That sucks. Need a plan B. You got any ideas, angel-boy?"

"This is turning out to be one hell of a rescue," he said, his eyes still wide, staring at the demon.

"Maybe you could spread your little wings and fly us back to Chicago," she suggested with a shrug.

"I can't _control _it!" He started pacing, running his fingers through his hair. "Castiel is the one who zapped me here! I didn't just _decide _to do it, and he's not fucking talking!"

The demon just stared at him with an almost-sympathetic look. "We don't have time for your bag of crazy just now, Jimbo. You want out of here, you're gonna have to figure it out."

"Figure WHAT out!?"

The tac team was outside the door now, trying to shoulder down the door. Jimmy could feel the panic spread over and through him, the world swimming. Nothing was making sense. Everything felt frail and brittle around him, and he could feel himself beginning to crack.

"Jimmy," she said, a soothing tone forced into her usually smarmy voice. "Just do it."

She walked over to him, placing a hand against the side of his face. He could feel the tears of frustration cascading down his face. What did she expect him to do? He couldn't do this. They were screwed. The police were going to break down the door, and they were going to be shot down.

"Jimmy," she said again. "Fly us out of here. Now."

He closed his eyes, reaching desperately. He had nothing left to lose at this point, it was do or die. He had thought just hours ago that he was ready for it to end, but now that he was facing it, he found that he couldn't.

_I don't deserve the escape of death. Not just yet. My penance is yet unresolved._

He shuddered at the alien thoughts. They were his own, but he didn't understand them.

He was breaking.

Falling.

He reached, grasping desperately as he felt Meg's other hand on the other side of his face, and he found it. He thought fiercely of where he wanted to go, the location that Dean had given him. The hotel in Chicago, the Elysian.

He put his arms around the demon and he stretched the familiar and yet alien appendages, shuddering at the power that he felt surround him as the air stirred, and they went.

When the tac team pounded the door down a moment later, guns drawn, they encountered an empty room.

[XXXXXX]

They had just passed the marker announcing the exit of Prairie City, South Dakota when Dean's phone began to ring.

Sam picked it up and checked the caller ID, glancing to Dean.

"Meg?" Dean asked, shifting his eyes to his brother for a moment before focusing on the road once more.

Sam confirmed by answering the call. "Did you find him?"

Dean cut off the radio, listening intently to Sam's side of the conversation.

"What?" Sam sat upright in the seat, looking distressed. "Did you get him out? Where are you now?"

Dean glanced to his brother, taking in his expression. What the hell had happened? A dozen scenarios played out in his head. The most likely was the least appealing, that Jimmy had gotten himself arrested or some shit.

"Crap," Sam sighed. "That's just great. Is he okay?"

Dean let his grip on the wheel relax a degree as Sam let the tension go out of his voice.

"Good," he said. "Okay, we're just passing through Presho. We should be there in about nine hours. Just, keep him there, okay? Call if anything comes up."

Sam sighed and ended the call, staring strained out the front windshield.

"Well?" Dean looked over to his brother, anxious to hear what the hell had happened.

"Police arrested him for tresspassing at the radio station," Sam said. "They had him in interrogation when Meg got to him. They were bringing _terrorism _charges against him for all that crap Castiel pulled last year. They're at the hotel, now."

"Shit," Dean swore, banging his palm against the wheel. "Can this get any more FUBAR?"

"Don't jynx it," Sam huffed, half laughing.

"Son of a bitch," Dean sighed. "This was the last freaking thing we needed."

"Dean," Sam began, looking over at him with a worried expression plastered on his face. "What are we going to do with him after we ice Dick?"

Dean had been thinking just the same thing. There was no way they could bring Jimmy with them if he was facing terrorism charges. His face would be in every God-damned police station across the country. He didn't want to just give up on the guy, either, though. Jimmy _had _turned out to be an asset in the last couple of hunts. He was a decent guy, and he'd given up everything to be Castiel's puppet.

The guy didn't deserve this shit.

"Guess we could help him get out of the country," Dean suggested. He wasn't really seeing a lot of options.

"Dean," Sam huffed. "To _where,_ Switzerland?!"

"If we have to. I'm sure Garth 'knows a guy who knows a guy'." Dean smiled grimly at Sam.

Sam just shook his head, staring out the window as a silence settled over the car.

Dean turned the music back up, seeing the road in tunnel-vision as his thoughts swarmed him.

He just hoped they could get this done as clean as possible.

(**A/N: **Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?! :P Hope you all enjoyed chapter 18. What are your thoughts about what's going on? ;) Until next chapter...)


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: I Am Jack's Complete Lack of Surprize

The world was pain as Jimmy crash landed in front of the hotel, Meg breaking his fall as they both tumbled to the concrete from the inertia. It felt as though he was being ripped apart, white hot scorching agony that began in his abdomen and spread out through his shoulders, wrenching paroxysmally in twin arcs of convulsion.

"Hey," Meg had untangled herself from him, her hands on his shoulders as she held him against the wall, her expression dark and unreadable. "Get a handle on your crap. You need to get your ass inside."

Jimmy stared up at her, panting softly as he took in what had just happened.

He would have been screwed if she hadn't shown up. It had never occurred to him that it was possible to take possession of Castiel the same way that Castiel had taken possession of him. It didn't really make sense, when he thought about it. Cas was an angel, a being of immeasurable power. How was it that he had been able to take control of the angel's wings? Thinking about it was making his head hurt almost as much as everything else hurt.

He nodded, acquiescing to her implication that sitting on the sidewalk in front of a trendy hotel probably wasn't the best of ideas. He tried to stand, but the searing pain he felt prevented it and he collapsed once more after barely having risen more than a few inches.

"Come on, Tinkerbell, up and at 'em," Meg quipped as she took his arm, hauling him to his feet.

Jimmy noticed that it didn't really seem like anyone was paying them any attention. The part of his brain that was still working classified this as bystander effect. Just because something was happening didn't mean anyone wanted to get involved. It was human nature for most to assume someone else would take care of... whatever it was that just happened.

He tried to make a comment about this, but he found that his body seemed to be too disoriented to function at his whim, and so he just allowed the demon to help him indoors and to the elevator.

He leaned against her heavily, slowly getting his bearings as they ascended. She was studying him, he realised, her black eyes seeming to read through him. He also noticed, as an afterthought, that he was no longer seeing her in such great detail as he had in the police station. He still saw the subtle shift of the demon's form beneath, but the flesh mask took the foreground once more.

"You're looking better," he slurred, none too pleased at his uncooperative tongue.

"Well aren't you a flirt," she smirked. "Wish I could say the same for you. You look like hell."

They reached the top floor and the demon repositioned herself under his arm, helping him hobble along toward the suite she had claimed as their temporary base of operations.

He pulled away when they reached the door, no longer really feeling like he needed a crutch despite the fact his head was still swimming. The pain had subsided for the most part.

"Why don't you just get comfy while I call the boys," Meg said as she sashayed into the massive room, dropping the keys on the little table in the entryway.

Jimmy was fairly impressed. He had occasionally traveled for his job, the company putting him up in some pretty nice places, but this definitely topped them all.

"Is this the penthouse?" His eyes wandered around the massive space with the vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors and paneled walls. He pretty much figured the Winchesters were going to lose their shit when they got here. He wondered if they had ever stayed anywhere half as nice, remembering the cruddy little motel they had checked into when he had stayed with them briefly all those years ago.

Meg didn't answer, standing in the little nook near the marble fireplace, a cellphone pressed to her ear. He figured she was probably calling Sam and Dean, letting them know that they'd gotten out of Pontiac more or less in one piece.

It would probably be a while before the police or the feds thought to check for them in Chicago, seeing as a hundred mile jump just doesn't occur to most people as plausible in the five or so minutes since they had made their escape.

Jimmy felt a wave of nausea at the thought. He was wanted by the goddamned FBI for terrorism. Castiel had put him into a serious world of shit that he had no real possibility of digging himself out of.

He found the door to the bathroom and let himself in, turning on the sink and splashing his face with cool water.

He toweled off the excess and glanced at himself in the mirror, what he saw staring back sending him flailing backwards until he hit the wall. His knees gave out and he found himself on the floor.

"You okay, angel boy?" Meg was standing at the door, unabashedly letting herself in and leaning against the frame, arms folded over her chest as she stared down at him with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

"No," he said honestly. His eyes were still glued to the mirror, even though at this vantage all he could see was the white wall reflected on its surface. He didn't want to stand. He might see it again if he stood up.

"The boys'll be here in about nine hours," she continued as though he had said everything was just fine. "Might as well get yourself some rest. Gonna be a long night."

She left at that, thankfully closing the door behind herself.

Jimmy just sat there for a long while. He wasn't really sure how much time had passed before he finally got the courage to get to his feet again, bracing himself on the edge of the sink with his hands, eyes closed and heart racing. He had probably been imagining it.

He opened his eyes and stared into the mirror, his thoughts neutral as he took in the image that stared back at him.

He couldn't see them so much as _perceive_ them, as little sense as it made. If he concentrated on them, he could even _feel _them. It was alien and yet familiar at the same time, something he couldn't quite put a name to. It felt like they _should_ be there, like they were always been _mean_t to be there, even though he hadn't remembered them _ever _being there to begin with.

Castiel's wings.

They were like a pair of massive, inky shadows, somehow made solid, spreading out from just behind his shoulders. He could make out the detail of each individual feather, each fold, each line, and yet they seemed to exist somewhere else entirely outside of reality. He tilted his head, moving his attention to the one on the left, curious and absolutely terrified. He felt his stomach tighten as he remembered the pain he had felt when he had moved them before, as though he had torn a part of himself out of his very core. Just the memory caused them to spasm, a flash of material darkness that jerked out to either side, causing another jolt of pain to run through him. The motion caused another knee-jerk reaction as he panicked, trying to reel them in and succeeding only in knocking the shower curtain off it's fixture.

Meg was back at the door, cautiously to one side as she watched his struggle with a smirk on her face. Could she even see what was happening? Were demons able to see them in the way that he could see demons?

"Breathe, Clarence," she drawled. "Jeez, you're like a toddler that's just figured out that feet are for more than just slobbering on."

"Help," he pleaded, futily. What could she possibly do?

"Stop flailing and just relax," she chided, her tone clipped. "It'll come back to you."

He closed his eyes again, willing the unruly things to still themselves.

"Good," she said. "Now put them away before you hurt yourself."

He opened his eyes again and glared at her, head down, palms still braced on the counter. "How the hell am I supposed to-"

"I don't know _how_ you do it, you just do it!" She rolled around the door frame, moving over to him. "Not like I have a handbook or anything. I wish you'd get your marbles back in the bag. It'd make this whole thing a lot easier."

Jimmy frowned at her, everything she'd said flying right over his head. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was fine, other than this whole entire fuck-fest of a morning so far. Sure, his head was a little scrambled from stress, but he knew what he was doing.

He stood up straight, folding his (_Castiel's_) wings behind himself, staring down at the demon in agitation that she should be so presumptuous. She may have assisted the Winchesters and himself on a handful of occasions, proving herself single-minded if not exactly trustworthy, but she was still a demon and she ought to know her place.

Wait, where the hell had _that _come from?

"That's more like it," she half smiled.

Jimmy frowned uncertainly, glancing in the mirror. There were no more shadowy wings trailing behind him, but something in his own face made him pause for a moment.

For a moment, he couldn't define the man staring back in his reflection as Jimmy Novak.

For just a moment, the man staring back at him was Castiel, and that was quite possibly the most disturbing thought he could recall having since this whole mess had begun.

[XXXXXX]

Dean didn't like valets. The thought of this asshat kid in the red coat driving his Baby made his stomach flip uncomfortably. He'd rather park her himself than let this punk get behind the wheel of his precious Impala.

"Dean," Sam had already gotten out of the car, but Dean wasn't moving. Still clenching the wheel, parked in front of the valet stand as the pimple-faced kid shifted uncomfortably beside his gargantuan younger brother, both watching him expectantly from the sidewalk. "Dean, just... let him do his job, okay?"

"I don't like this, Sammy."

"I know, Dean. It's... it's gonna be fine, okay? Just... get out of the car, let him take the keys... they're open all night, Dean..."

Sam was watching him with those pleading, puppy dog eyes. Damn it! Why did he always fall for that crap? He didn't like the idea of leaving the keys where he couldn't grab them and go. It was unprofessional, God damn it!"

"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbled. "Fine!"

He cut the engine and threw the door open, whirling out of the car and chucking the keys at the kid's face. "You so much as get a speck of dust on her and I'll dust _you. _Got it?"

The kid recoiled, giving the elder Winchester a wide berth as Dean strode past his brother without a word.

Added to the list of things Dean didn't like was the fact that the demon had selected possibly _the _most high-profile lodgings for their base of operations for the job. With a name like The Elysian, Dean had expected the usual tacky 1970s nightmare they were used to.

But no, this place was the goddamn Ritz-Carlton of Chicago.

So much for low-profile.

Even the freaking _elevator_ felt like it should have some exorbitant admission fee.

Meg met them at the lobby on their floor, looking exasperated and at the end of her rope.

"Thank God," she said ironically. "You can deal with him. I can't do it anymore."

Dean frowned, turning to Sam who was reflecting the look back at him.

"What are we walking into exactly," Dean asked.

"Your boyfriend's falling apart at the seams," she shrugged, ignoring the death glare at the snide remark.

"All right," he said. "I'm going to ignore that, but what do you mean, 'falling apart at the seams'?"

Meg sighed, rolling her eyes. "What do you think I mean, genius?"

"Maybe you could be a little more specific," Sam offered in a reasonable tone.

"Cigarette burns, Gigantor," Meg hissed. "Tyler Durden's breaking through the cracks and Jack's holding onto the illusion for dear life."

Dean frowned. What the hell did Fight Club have to do with any of this crap?

Meg glared scathingly between them, as though her stare would somehow clue them in.

"Oh, come on!" She threw her hands in the air. "You two seriously haven't figured it out yet?"

Dean was lost. What the hell was she trying to imply? Sure, Jimmy had been a roller coaster of a train wreck, but he was mostly stable. Mostly. Cas was wounded and out of his freaking mind, but he hadn't exactly been a huge presence, over the last couple of days, especially. In fact, ever since Jimmy's stunt at the salt and burn job, Cas had seemed less and less outwardly present.

He shot Sam a look, wondering if his little brother might have gleaned more insight from the riddles.

Sam was staring back at him with a look of shocked revelation, and something clicked.

"No," Dean intoned. There was no way. No freaking way. "No way, not for a- he remembers shit! Jimmy's shit! There's no-"

"And whose head has he been living in for the last five years, Deano?"

"So let me get this straight," Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You think Captain Crazy Train's gone Sybil on us?"

Meg just folded her arms, staring at him.

"How is that even possible," Sam asked no one in particular.

"Do I look like an expert on angel psychosis to you," Meg deadpanned.

"Son of a bitch," Dean sighed. Why did things have to get more and more complicated right when they were at the end of the ride?

"Point is," Meg continued. "You're gonna have to get him sorted to _some _kind of functional before you shank Dick, or Jekyll and Hyde in there is just gonna make himself a liability."

"And that matters so much to you," Sam sniped.

"It does," Meg countered. "Mutual interests, remember? Killing Dick Roman is just as beneficial to me as it is to you."

Dean sighed. "Well this just turned into two tons of fun," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "What the hell do you suggest?"

"Not in my pay grade," Meg forced a smile.

"How are you even sure?" Sam asked. It was a good question, and Dean had wondered himself.

"Uh," she said. "Humans kind of need souls."

"So you're saying Jimmy doesn't have a soul?" Dean was incredulous.

"But," Sam frowned. "I thought a vessel needed a soul in order for an angel to... whatever..."

"Again," Meg raised her hands defensively. "not an angel expert, but I can tell you there's nothin' there but shiny angel dust."

"And it didn't occur to you to say anything _before_?" Dean felt the heat rise in his collar. Freakin' demons. It would've been nice to know this shit two _weeks _ago.

"I thought you were smart enough to figure it out on your own, asswipe," Meg retorted. "Besides, it's not like I had a lot of opportunity."

"Whatever," Dean huffed. "Let's just get started with what you found out about Dick's Fortress of Solitude and go from there."

Things could never just be fucking simple.

.

(**A/N: **Whaaaaaaaaaat?! The first rule is... you do NOT open up a bag of crazy when you're facing the end of the freaking world!)


	20. Chapter 20

(**A/N:** Is this a new chapter? This is a new chapter! Holy crap, it's still going! XD I'm truly sorry for the long pause between updates. I had a little disagreement with my muse about how this chapter should go. Three rewrites and a lot of sobbing in my self-effacing corner, here it finally is. Now beta'd by the lovely Ninjakittee!)

.

Meg had been busy during her stay in Chicago, and after being given the tour of the suite, Dean understood why the usual run-down motel wouldn't have cut it for the set up she had going.

In one of the suite's two bedrooms, she had set up a sort of nerve centre with video surveillance, maps, blueprints, the whole nine yards.

"You set this all up yourself?" Sam was reluctantly impressed. Hell, Dean was, too. Meg had always been resourceful, a fact they had become intimate with when they'd been on the other side of her scheming. Meg was smarter than a lot of demons they'd come across, but that didn't mean that they were inclined to over-estimate her.

"I had a little help with the computers," she admitted. "Other than that, yup. Just me, wheelin' and dealin'."

Dean didn't like the smug smirk on her face, wondering if the demon had been making bargains in exchange for things. He wouldn't be a bit surprised. He had to admit, however, that it was impressive either way. The surveillance system rivaled Frank Devereux's, just a little less paranoid.

Going over the plan didn't actually take too long.

They would move in during the day. Meg would create a distraction while Dean, Sam and Jimmy- or Cas- or whoever the hell he was- snuck in and found Dick. Cas- Jimmy-whatever- would be able to identify the real Dick Roman from the multiple clones he'd made of himself once he had found out that Team Free Will had found a way to end him.

Dean still wondered how the hell Dick had learned what was on the tablet. It was possible that Crowley had sold them out, he supposed. The King of Hell couldn't even be straight with them about whether or not the blood he'd given them was legit, so it did seem likely that Crowley was playing both sides.

Once the plan was settled, Dean was left with just one loose end to tie up.

Cas.

Dean crossed the main room of the suite once Sam had delved into speaking Geekinese with Meg, where the demon had said Jimmy had locked himself in shortly after their arrival that morning. He still didn't quite believe that Cas had gone so far off the deep end, but he supposed stranger things had happened.

But why _Jimmy_? Dean had been convinced that the guy was Jimmy Novak. The dude remembered things about Jimmy's life, his personality fit and he was just, so, _not Cas_.

Then again, maybe that was the point. Cas had saddled himself with so much guilt over the Leviathans and his one-man war against Heaven, playing at God and losing control of himself and his mission.

Maybe Cas just envied Jimmy's plain, ordinary, vanilla life.

But if it were true, if Meg was right and it _was _just Cas with a set of borrowed memories and one mother of a psychosis, then what the hell happened to the real Jimmy Novak?

Not to mention, if Jimmy was gone, how the hell was Cas still there if he needed a living vessel to survive?

Dean sighed as he tried the door, finding it locked.

No matter.

He pulled his lock picking kit from his jacket pocket, making quick work of the simple interior lock and let himself into the room.

Flipping on the light, Dean saw a dozen or so empty airplane bottles that had once contained various types of single-serving liquor on the night stand and a vaguely Jimmy-shaped lump beneath the duvet on the king-sized bed.

Dean shook his head and shut the door behind himself, meandering to the middle of the room.

"Hello, Dean." And damn it if that didn't sound like Cas. Given the last couple of weeks, he couldn't be too sure. He decided to take a chance.

"Hey, Cas."

The lump beneath the covers snorted derisively, shifting and pulling himself up to sit, staring at Dean with an underscore of irritation in his eyes.

Dean stared right back, studying the other man in earnest. He really didn't look a thing like Castiel, generally speaking. He was pale, strung-out looking with dark circles beneath his eyes. Rather than the usual haphazard bed-head that Cas habitually sported, he literally looked like he had just rolled out of bed with his hair half-plastered to the side of his face (which was, Dean supposed, was a given, since he technically just had rolled out of bed). His slumped, relaxed posture and the black t-shirt and jeans just looked all wrong for an angel of the Lord. Nothing about the guy spoke of the Holy Tax Accountant.

Except for his eyes.

His eyes were hard, cold. They carried the weight of worlds in guilt and loss.

"What's the deal with you," Dean asked, leaning back against the tall, enclosed wooden entertainment centre. "Crowley set you off? The police? Or was it your little stunt in the car this morning? Notice you didn't bother correcting me, by the way."

The broken angel (man?) merely stared at him for a long time, unblinking, unmoving. Dean wasn't een sure if the guy was properly breathing. It was as though he had suddenly turned to stone, staring at the hunter from his nest of thick hotel comforters and pillows.

"The hell are you talking about," Jimmy grumbled, turning away from Dean and rubbing his eyes.

Dean sighed. That didn't get anywhere, apparently, and they really didn't have time for this crap.

"Look man," Dean sighed. "I dunno what your issue is, and right now I don't really care. What I need to know is are you still onboard with us? Because if you remember, we kinda need you to get your head in the game."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side and if that didn't remind Dean of Cas he didn't know what did. All of his suspicions were coming back to the surface since what Meg had said in the hall, trying to figure the guy out. The whole thing just seemed impossible from all angles. Either it was Jimmy, or it was Cas. Right? And given the evidence, it was seeming more and more like it might be the latter, as messed up as that was.

"I got arrested today," Jimmy said, matter of factly.

"Yeah, I heard," Dean shrugged, raising his eyebrows as if to say 'so what?'

"I've never been arrested in my _life._ I'm wanted for _terrorism_. For _murder_. And I can't get rid of the asshole that's responsible for it."

Dean nodded, preparing to say something to the effect of 'that's the life' when Jimmy cut him off again.

"You know," Jimmy intoned, devoid of emotion. "I can't remember my birthday. I tried. It isn't _there_anymore. There are other things, too. My anniversary, my parents. The name of my highschool. My minor in college. I don't remember any of it."

Dean felt an unsettling sense of sympathy as he listened. He also felt a trickle of guilt. Whether it was Cas or Jimmy, the guy was a friend, and Dean had let him down.

More so, he found himself getting pissed off. Cas had played god, messed with Sammy's head and unleashed the Leviathans, and that was all on top of royally fucking up Jimmy's life. Of course, Dean liked Castiel- the angel was the closest thing he'd ever had to a best friend, despite his screw ups and childish naivity- but the more he got to know 'Jimmy', the angrier he got at the fallen angel.

This could have been _his _life- trapped in his own mind, host to a celestial being of immense power and there was _nothing he could do about it_ because he'd said yes. And now, Cas had nowhere else to go. His home, his family had turned their backs on him.

"How 'bout this," Dean said finally, deciding that when- if- they chopped Dick, they could deal with Jimmy/Cas's personality crisis. "You remember when you told me that being a vessel was like being 'chained to a comet'?"

Jimmy gave him a skeptical look. "Yeah..."

"Well," Dean continued, spreading his hands in a wide shrug. "You saddled that comet and now you're riding it. So way I figure, you can sit there, wallowing in your own misery with your feathers ruffled and your panties in a twist-" Jimmy scowled, about to spit out some angry retort. "OR," Dean continued "you can get off your ass and we can try to stop the big-mouths from turning everyone into dog food. It's your choice, man, but you _really _gotta look at your priorities right about now."

Jimmy turned away from him, glaring at the wall to his left.

"Fine," he said petulantly.

"...Thanks," Dean sighed, genuine gratitude in his tone. "I swear, man, I _promise _you. Once this is all over, if we all walk out of this in one piece, I'll do whatever I can to help fix you, okay? But first, we need to ice Dick."

Jimmy nodded, saying nothing. Dean thought he was gonna get real sick of this real fast if he had to put up with it much longer, but his thoughts derailed as Sam barged into the room, locking eyes with Dean, his face a mask of urgency.

"Dean," he said. "It's Bobby. I think we found him."

Dean frowned. Bobby was on the list, too. Though, that was primarily because he'd gone vengeful and presumably kidnapped some poor hotel maid. If they'd tracked them down...

"Where," he asked, pushing away from the wall unit, giving his brother his full attention.

"SucroCorp."

Shit. Bobby was going after Dick on his own.

Dean looked to Jimmy, who had finally given his interest to the conversation and looked like he might just get his ass back in the game.

"Let's roll," Dean proclaimed. He may have loved Bobby, but if he'd gone vengeful, it was on them to stop him before he did anything stupid.

If the hotel maid got hurt while Bobby had her, then Dean and Sam were as much to blame as the old man for not taking care of their former mentor's specter before it became an issue.

And Dean didn't know if he could live with that on his conscience.


	21. Chapter 21

(**A/N: **Please don't burn my house down. ._. I'm sorry for this... I am so, so sorry...)

.

He could feel her presence clawing at the back of his mind; terrified, confused and desperate, struggling to regain control of the body that he'd borrowed for his purpose. It was justified, though - he meant her no harm. She could go when he finished here, once he got through this. He just needed her a little while longer.

He felt like a man on a mission from God; all righteous vengeance, gripping the newspaper in his borrowed hand so tightly that it felt as though it might burst into flame from the friction of molecules pressing together. His vision was a tunnel framed in white-hot rage as three syllables flickered through his disjointed thoughts - _Dick Roman_.

His spirit swelled within the borrowed form as he came within sight of the glass tower of SucroCorp, knowing that somewhere in that building Dick Roman awaited retribution. He owed so much to the creature that had killed him, and he intended to pay with interest.

Rounding the corner toward the back entrance of the building, he was confronted by three familiar figures - but it was hazy. He knew these men, their importance tickling at his subconscious, but at the moment they were only an obstacle.

"Bobby," the tall one - _Sam_, the rational part of his mind supplied - stepped in his path, hands held out in a supplicating gesture, "I know you're in there. You gotta stop this."

Sam pointed his chin toward a CCTV camera on the wall above them, aimed directly at them, red activity light blinking passively at them. He wasn't concerned with the camera though, or its smug little red light - he was more concerned with the other two men, the smartass in the leather coat (_Deanidjitboysmartalec_) and the skinny kid with the dark hair (_Casfeathersjimmyangelofthelordcastiel_) moving in on either side to flank him.

He could feel the surge of energy within his soul as his anger built - they were trying to stop him from getting to Dick. Why? That's what they all want, isn't it? To end Dick Roman and stop the Levis?

Regardless of their intentions, he couldn't take chances - not when he was so close.

With a howl of rage, the diminutive woman in the pink uniform currently housing the vengeful spirit of Bobby Singer snapped into action, tossing Dean a good fifteen feet to crash into the side of a parked courier vehicle and bouncing back down onto the pavement. Jimmy moved in from behind as the vengeful spirit's back is turned to him, but even Castiel's Grace wasn't enough to keep him from getting knocked on his ass by the berserk ghost.

Sam pulled the trump card out of his pocket - a leather pouch filled with rock salt and iron shavings. None of them wanted to hurt Bobby, or the woman who their friend was currently possessing, and so even though it was less than ideal, the inferior method of delivery had been decided on over using the rock-salt shotguns.

Bobby wasn't no fool, though. Seeing that the younger Winchester was up to something, he leapt into action; small yet powerful fingers wrapping around Sam's throat and forcing him into the side of a black delivery van parked beside the loading dock.

"Bobby!" Dean called out to his former mentor and father figure, still trying to re-orient himself after the blow he'd received. "Bobby, don't- don't do this, let Sam go... let the girl go. All you're gonna do is get her killed, and us along with her."

Sam scrabbled at the hands squeezing his throat, feeling them loosen just a smidgen as Dean talked. He held the woman's brown eyes, silently pleading with Bobby to come to his senses. He saw Jimmy in his peripheral, quietly moving forward in Bobby's blind spot, a determined look on his face. He didn't know what the guy was thinking, but he was hoping he had a plan - and that it worked - because he was already seeing stars.

"Bobby," Dean beseeched, "this isn't you, man. _Please_. You can't fight Dick and win."

The flask had to be on the woman somewhere, Jimmy reasoned. From what he had learned about spirits from his brief time with the Winchesters, he knew that spirits couldn't stray far from the objects to which they were attached.

Jimmy could see Bobby's spirit superimposed over the woman he was currently possessing; a roiling maelström of berserker rage and vengeance. At the eye of the storm he could see the woman's soul, huddled against the onslaught of Bobby's shade - caccooned and powerless to do anything about it. She was a hostage in her own body, and something bitter surged up in him at the thought - he was much the same, trapped and helpless against a being of indomitable will, fighting a war that they had no business being involved with in the first place.

A rush of guilt hit him at the thought, on the heels of soul-deep sadness. Why he felt guilty for sympathising with a possessed woman, he had no idea - but he could figure it out later. He shook it off and, on a whim, reached out to lay a hand on the woman's shoulder, willing Bobby's spirit out of her body and ejecting his incorporeal form across the parking lot.

He caught her as she fell away in a dead faint, Dean stepping past him to brace his brother as he stumbled away from the van, clutching at his abused throat as he fought to regain his breath.

"Is she-" Sam rasped, his words coarse and broken.

"She's breathing," Jimmy confirmed, "I think she's okay, just knocked out..."

Once satisfied that his brother was all right, Dean moved over to Jimmy and the unconscious hotel maid, searching her pockets and finding what he was looking for in the girl's apron - the silver flask that tied Bobby's spirit to the living world. He caught Sam's big, sad puppy dog eyes, the knowledge of what had to come next passing solemnly between them. Neither one of them wanted to do it, but in light of what had happened - Bobby possessing that poor girl, marching her like a paper tank into a fire fight, they both knew it was the only option.

That didn't mean they had to be okay with it.

"Dean," Sam pleaded, his voice thick from more than just the injury to his throat, "we have to, before he loses it again..."

Dean looked anywhere but at his companions, his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth, forcing down the emotion that threatened to well up in his throat and choke his composure. There was no way around this - Bobby had gone vengeful. He was no longer their friend, their mentor - he was now just another dangerous ghost, hell-bent on revenge and not caring who or what got in his way of carrying his mission.

"Dean," a new voice joined the conversation, weak and thready. All three men rose, turning to face the flickering, weakened spirit standing beside the loading dock.

Dean gripped the bag of rock salt and iron shavings in his jacket pocket, mentally preparing himself to defend against the thing that had once been like a father to him should he decide to go poltergeist on them again.

Bobby just stood there, however, ethereal eyes cast aside in shame - though his fists remained clenched at his side, his rage barely held back by rational thought. "Better get it done while I still got a thought in my head says you're doin' the right thing."

"Bobby," Dean croaked, unable to keep the reedy strain from his tone.

"Ain't no time for buts, boy," Bobby raised his gaze level to the elder Winchester, eyes pleading for forgiveness and understanding.

Both men just stared for a long moment, neither wanting to be the first to give in, to acknowledge that they understood, that it had to be done.

It was Dean who broke first, not wanting his little brother to bear that weight, to be the one responsible for Bobby being gone for good this time.

"All right, Bobby," he said, holding up the flask. "All right."

The sigh of relief that came from the old man's ghost was almost tangible.

"Jim," Dean called out, not taking his eyes off the former man, "can you get her to a hospital?"

"Yeah," Jimmy replied, gathering the unconscious girl up, "I think so."

Without another word, Jimmy disappeared, leaving the Winchesters alone with the spirit. Ever since the guy's abrupt departure that morning and their little talk at the hotel, it seemed like Jimmy was becoming more and more at ease with using Cas' mojo. Something about that didn't quite sit right with Dean, but now wasn't the time to get all worked up about it. Besides, it was useful - he wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm real sorry, boys," Bobby sighed ruefully.

"Yeah, Bobby," Sam said softly, using that voice he uses on trauma victims and people with guns, "we know. You were trying to help."

"Guess I did a real bang-up job of it," the ghost chuckled, though it was harsh, strained.

Dean felt the anger welling up fresh in his chest. Bobby was the closest they'd had to a real father, making up for John's shortcomings in the parental department. He'd been there for them, put his ass on the line for them so many freakin' times. He'd always come through for them when they needed anything - _anything, _and had even _died _for them, _twice, _and now they had to put him down like any common spook they'd ever salted and burned. Why couldn't the old man have just crossed over when he was supposed to? It would have saved them this whole freakin' mess - but then, without Bobby he might never have been able to save Sammy, or find Cas in Colorado, or a dozen other things.

He wished they didn't have to, that they could just find a way to fix Bobby, or make it so he wouldn't go vengeful - but that was fantasy. There'd never been a ghost that didn't go nuts in the end. It was just a matter of time, even if they did ice Dick.

Of course, they'd have to survive that long in order to accomplish much of anything.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in warning, drawing the elder Winchester back to the moment as two security guards emerged from the access door by the loading dock.

"Crap," Dean agreed. There was no way to know if they were civilian guards or Levis, though. When Charlie Bradbury had infiltrated Dick's office on their behalf a couple of months back, the guard had appeared to be one-hundred percent human, but anything could have changed between then and now.

Both guards were armed, firing at them without pause as Dean drew his Colt 1911 from inside his jacket. He squeezed off a couple of low-aimed shots as he ducked behind the van, followed shortly by Sam. He wasn't into the idea of killing a couple of hired goons if he could get away with it, but he hoped to God or whoever that they wouldn't push it and force him to do more than wound them if it came down to it; the last thing he wanted to do was plug some poor bastard security guard for doing his job.

Bobby flickered into view as the boys silently tried to formulate a plan, his expression weary and stricken.

"They ain't human," the old hunter cautioned, "guards are both Big-Mouths. You boys get the hell outta here, I'll try to distract 'em"

The Winchesters shared a hesitant nod, moving to the end of the van as Bobby flickered back out again. And what the hell was taking Jimmy so freaking long? If he'd get his schizophrenic ass back from dumping Miss Emily Rose off at the hospital he could just zap them back to the hotel and they could avoid this whole mess.

A sudden drop in temperature followed by a loud pop and an electric sizzle alerted them that their distraction had arrived, a split second of eye-contact between the two men signaling all systems go as they darted out from behind the van.

Dean wasn't sure if he could ever process what happened next as they came out into view once more; one of the Leviathan guards had Bobby - _physically _by the throat - its jagged maw open in a wide grin of snaggled teeth. A sudden burst of heat made him stumble with a hoarse cry of pain as the pocket containing the flask began to smolder. He jerked the flask out of his pocket, dropping it in an instant as it glowed red in his hand, searing his palm and fingertips. At the same moment, a ripple of oozing black worked its way through Bobby's ethereal form in the grip of the guard.

"No," Dean breathed, watching in heartbroken horror as Bobby's ghost simply dissolved into a puddle of black goo and ectoplasm, "no, Bobby - not like this..."

"Dean!" Sam's voice caught him, and as his little brother's hand gripped his arm, jerking him away from the scene, the world snapped back into focus. Leviathans had just killed Bobby Singer, twice. That's not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to burn the flask himself - give Bobby a proper send-off, for the second time. They were supposed to have a chance to say goodbye, and those motherfuckers had just killed him again.

Red framed the edges of Dean's vision as Sam desperately tried to pull his brother away from the advancing monsters. He didn't have shit on him but the Colt 1911 in his hand and the demon knife in his pocket, but these freaks were about to get theirs. Nobody fucks with Dean Winchester's family.

Dean jerked his arm away from his little brother's grasp just as the sound of wings beat through the tense air, putting Jimmy between Dean and the Leviathans.

Jimmy surveyed his surroundings, now on his third attempt at finding his way back, his relief at the successful landing quickly squashed as he realized he'd just dropped into the middle of a fight. He turned to his left, his eyes going wide as the two Leviathan closed the distance from the loading dock, their gelatinous forms flowing with grotesque liquidity in rudimentary human form. He took an involuntary few steps back, toward the Winchesters and away from the monsters, momentarily frozen.

"Jimmy!" Dean screamed in his ear as two pairs of hands grabbed him from either side. "Get us the hell out of here!"

"Yeah," he stuttered in response, "good plan..."

The Levis breached the last few yards between them as Jimmy reached within himself for that power he'd inexplicably managed to tap into, feeling the increasingly familiar sensation of Castiel's wings unfurling as something cold and oily plunged into his chest. The creature's grotesquely misshapen face was inches from his own - a grin full of spears, fetid breath washing over him as its jaws opened in a hiss, twin tongues darting out against his flesh.

He heard the Winchesters scream his name in unison, and despite the ice working its way through him, he gripped them both tight, flexing powerful, alien muscles and pulling himself and his companions out of harm's way. A howl of rage followed him through the negative space between SucroCorp's loading dock and the floor of the hotel suite. He had only a moment to rejoice in the successful rescue before realizing that he couldn't breathe.

* * *

After the brief nausea from the bumpy ride subsided, it took Dean a couple of seconds to register that he was on the floor of the hotel room, tangled up in too many limbs to be just his own.

"Dean," the urgency in Sam's voice sent a flicker of panic through Dean's guts. Something had happened back there - something not good - and the sudden violent thrashing from the form beneath him brought it crashing back; the damned Leviathan had got to Jimmy.

Dean disentangled himself from the flailing form of Jimmy Novak, instinctively re-positioning himself to help his brother restrain him.

Jimmy was on his back on the floor, his eyes wide with panic, and he was gasping like a fish out of water, struggling to breathe though it seemed like nothing was getting in. Black goo trickled from his right eye and his nose, flecks of the same dotting his steadily paling lips. The front of his black t-shirt was tattered, soaked through with blood and goo, right beneath where the man's sternum would be.

"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed hopelessly. Things didn't look good. Whatever the Levi had done to the guy, it didn't look like Jimmy was winning.

"What the hell happened," Meg's voice came from the direction of the room housing the array of surveillance equipment. "Those guards came out and then I lost you guys on camera, what did-"

The demon's voice cut off abruptly as she came into view, her eyes wandering over the three men on the floor with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. Dean figured it was about the closest thing to concern they were going to get out of the hell-spawn.

"Help or get the hell out," Dean growled at her, his temper flaring to burn away his fear.

"I don't know what you expect _me _to do, Dean-o," Meg lilted in response, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the door frame with a wry grin, "I could try mouth-to-mouth..."

"Try it," Sam suggested in all seriousness, "anything might help at this point."

The demon sighed, rolling her eyes as she sauntered over and knelt beside the man asphyxiating on the floor.

Jimmy flinched as the demon's mangled, rotting face loomed in over him. He tried to scream, but all that came forth was a trickle of ooze that trailed out of the corners of his mouth. His mind flashed to a time when he was a kid - maybe nine or ten years old - on a beach trip with his family. He had waded out into the ocean too far, trying to keep up with his older cousins. The tide had caught him - pulling him under and further out into the surf.

The cold fire burning in his chest reminded him of those terrifying few minutes when he knew for certain that he was about to die there on that beach.

Alongside his own panic he felt a fluttering warmth buzzing through his core - just as frightened as he was - fighting desperately against the tide. He could feel that warmth envelope him as his vision began to fade, colours muting and going gray.

_And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death..._

He remembered feeling the sting of saltwater in his eyes as the waves pushed him down again, the unrelenting tide dragging him further and further away from the shore.

_I will fear no evil..._

He could feel the warm embrace that surrounded him, pulling him back from the cold depths of the ocean, guiding him into the searching arms of his father and uncle.

_For thou art with me._

_"__Castiel,"_ he prayed_, "help me..."_

_"I'm sorry, Jimmy."_

_"Where were you?" _he wept, clinging now to consciousness as his body was deprived of oxygen.

_"Where I have been all this time. Jimmy, I have tried, so hard, to save us both..."_

_"What the hell does that mean?"_

He could feel the angel sigh in resignation. _"It means I will do what I can, but it will be... very dangerous. I am so sorry."_

Meg flew back with a hiss as Jimmy's body went rigid, a dull glow and a faint hum of energy emanating from the now-still form between the two hunters. The demon fled the room in a panic as the light brightened sharply, wispy tendrils of smoke rising from Jimmy's eyes and mouth as the goo burned away.

Dean scootched back quickly as the light intensified, seeing that his brother was doing the same. He was reluctant to take his eyes off of his wounded friend, but the light soon became too much to bear as a scream split the air - shattering every light in the room and rattling the windows in their frames - and he threw up his arm to shield his eyes as the world went white, burning away all sound.

.

(**A/N: **[post script] I'm sorry this took so long... I've put a lot on my plate recently and gotten in over my head on a few things. Also, there were things in this chapter that I just couldn't bring myself to write until now. It hurts me as much as it hurts you guys ._. )


	22. Chapter 22

(**A/N: ** Hello lovelies! I'm sorry this took so long to put this up, I've been really busy lately moving and general irl stuff... Hopefully I should be getting back into regular updates on all my fics pretty soon. Cheers to Heaven's Eagle for beta'ing you're awesome sweetheart!)

Jimmy wondered briefly if he was dead, and if this was Heaven.

It didn't feel much like Heaven. Maybe it was Hell - but he'd always expected Hell to be a lot less pleasant.

He couldn't tell if he was blind and senseless or if he was simply swimming in a sea of soundless white light. The pain was gone, only a vague lingering burn in his lungs remaining to validate that he was still even corporeal in the aftermath of whatever it was the angel had done to them.

_"It will be... very dangerous."_

He hadn't even had time to formulate an opinion on what Castiel had meant by that before he felt himself burning, drowning in white fire. It had been terrifying, whatever it was, and Jimmy absently wondered where Castiel was now. He couldn't sense the angel's presence , and the thought worried him.

He still felt _something,_ but the distinct presence of _another _was simply gone.

Gradually, the white began to fade from his vision, shapes becoming distinct around him as he felt his weight settled on the plush microfiber couch beneath him. At some point, his boots and jacket had been removed, and there was a soft velour blanket draped over him. There were a few candles lit in the main room of the suite; all of the lamps in blackened ruin where they lay, the overhead lights completely blown out.

Jimmy frowned, recalling the few moments of panic before he'd blacked out. He remembered the loading dock, Bobby's spirit possessing the woman from the hotel in Hoople, and-

A sudden wave of nausea passed over him as he remembered the Leviathans, the monster plunging its arm into his chest and the acrid taste on his tongue as he felt himself drowning. Along with the urge to spill his guts came a splitting headache and a dull throb beneath his skin that caused his fingertips to tingle uncomfortably.

Suddenly, he wasn't so sure he wanted to be conscious just yet. He felt hollow and cold, and despite his rising gorge he felt as though he hadn't eaten in days - a point his stomach urgently agreed with.

"Cas?" he ventured in a hushed tone, apprehension writhing in the pit of his stomach. There was a long pause before he felt what he thought was a faint whisper of acknowledgement - remote and removed, not unlike when the angel had first made his presence known before the whole shitstorm and the Apocalypse and everything that followed, but so faint it may have only been his imagination, wishful thinking.

Tentatively, he tried to sit up - a movement quickly aborted when the white flashed behind his eyes again, threatening to make him pass out, or vomit, or both. He squeezed his eyes shut, flopping back down on the cushions and going as still as he could muster until it passed.

"Easy there, Balboa," a familiar voice lilted, "you don't look like you're ready to come up swingin' just yet."

Jimmy opened his eyes, taking in the sight of Meg leaning against the door frame of the room housing the surveillance equipment. He almost found it comforting that he could still make out the subtle shift of the demon's true face beneath the flesh mask, though it was far less pronounced; a vague suggestion of the corrupted soul he had seen all too clearly at the police station in Pontiac.

"What happened," he slurred, words thick and sluggish on his tongue, "how long was I out..."

"The boys were hoping you could fill in the 'what'," the demon shrugged, sashaying over to the dinette table across the room. "You've been out for the better part of a day. You went supernova after you dragged the boys back from Dick's. One of the big-mouths messed you up good - we weren't sure who was gonna wake up."

Jimmy frowned, processing this. Cas had done something to him after they'd been attacked, but where was the angel now? Despite an inkling sensation he couldn't quite explain assuring him that Castiel was still alive, he was almost positive he wasn't, strictly speaking, 'there' anymore. He couldn't sense the angel's presence in his head, which made absolutely no sense, considering the angel had been pretty certain that if he were to separate himself from Jimmy, one or both of them would almost certainly die.

He couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness, of abandonment that followed this thought process. It was slightly irrational, considering he'd spent the last four years regretting having said yes to Castiel to begin with, but now that he appeared to be gone, now that Jimmy was alone, he couldn't help feeling as though he'd lost some important part of himself.

At the same time, however, he felt strange, sort of loose on the inside, skin made of rice paper, fragile like a shattered vase pieced back together with Elmer's glue. He searched his senses and found he could no longer feel Castiel's wings, which was odd in and of itself in the fact that, although they had felt alien, he felt the loss as though he'd lost a limb of his own.

"Where are the Winchesters?" he asked after a long pause to take inventory.

"Supply run," Meg offered back over her shoulder with a playful smirk, "should be back soon. After their ghost friend blew their cover, we ain't got Dick."

Jimmy sighed, pushing himself slowly upright, leaning forward on his knees with his head in his hands. Despite the pain, his head felt clearer than it had in all these weeks since he'd woken up in the real world, his thoughts more familiar. More himself.

"I think Cas," he began, "I think he's gone."

He felt a minute shudder as Meg leaned against the arm of the couch. Glancing up, he saw her looking down at him, arms folded across her chest, an odd expression on her face that could only be described as amusement, curiosity and disbelief. There was something else underneath it all, as well - something he couldn't quite put a name to.

"You really believe it, don't you," she asked after a moment of consideration.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at her, getting slightly irritated at the fact that everyone seemed to be doubting him the last few days. He'd inferred from his conversation with Dean before heading out to SucroCorp that everyone was under the impression he was Castiel, just gone so far off the rails that he believed he was Jimmy Novak, some kind of twisted schizophrenic persona brought about by the angel's psychosis. He had no idea where that idea had come from, though. Of course he was Jimmy Novak! Sure, he had his own issues lately, but he was certain - now more than ever - of who he was.

He was damaged, abused and taken advantage of, rode hard and put away wet by an angel of the Lord who'd gone off the deep end after befriending a couple of kids who had made him question his loyalty when it counted. Now, his life in shambles after the injured celestial had done what he could only imagine was something incredibly stupid after nearly being struck down by one of God's deadliest creations, he found himself dumped in the laps of the angel's friends, who were convinced he was dead and thought he was some kind of angelic personality disorder.

"You don't," he countered, his tone perhaps a bit more bitter than intended.

Meg leaned back, reclining across the arm of the couch with her elbow resting on the back, poised like a sated jungle cat watching a rabbit from a tree limb; the instinct to hunt present despite the lack of hunger. Her eyes raked over him, eyebrow quirked in a physical manifestation of sarcasm as she took him in. He wondered what she saw, if it was the way he had seen those feds in Pontiac, his aura on display like a nimbus of colour and emotion, or if demons saw something else entirely when they looked at humans.

"I'm not Castiel," he insisted, feeling a little petulant at the declaration.

"Maybe not," she shrugged, reaching out to play with his hair and smirking when he batted her hand away and drew back with a scowl, "you've just been twisted up with him so long you might as well be. I can see it now, though. You really got shafted, didn't you..."

Jimmy frowned, watching her warily. "What's that mean?"

"All that's left of you, all torn up to ribbons," she drawled, shrugging, "wonder how much of himself Clarence had to use to glue you back together..."

He felt his blood run cold at the suggestion. Was that what had happened? Did Cas sacrifice himself to save him after the Leviathan attack? In that context, a few things made sense, theoretically - like how the angel had managed to 'separate' them, and possibly why he was still able to see Meg for what she was underneath her stolen skin.

"Shit," he muttered, leaning forward and twisting his fingers into his hair in frustration. His life had been so easy before all of this angels and demons and Apocalypse crap. Because he'd said yes, because he'd so blindly believed in God and Heaven and the pure goodness of angels, his wife and daughter were on the run from demons, _thousands _were dead thanks to Castiel tapping Purgatory like a keg and getting more than he bargained for when he decided to play God, the angel himself was damaged and possibly dead, and he was alone and adrift in a world of monsters and demons and spirits that he still only _barely _comprehended.

"Don't let it eat you up, Jimbo," the demon consoled, sliding off the arm of the couch and onto the seat next to him, patting him on the shoulder companionably, "there's worse could've happened, you know."

Jimmy couldn't help but scoff out an incredulous huff of laughter at that, because he really couldn't imagine how it _could _get worse.

"I've got nothing left," Jimmy mused aloud, "my entire life is _gone_. I'm wanted by the FBI for crap Cas pulled while he was in control of my body, and even if I wasn't I can't go back to my family because I'd only put them in danger and, hell! They probably think I'm dead, or don't want anything to do with me anymore."

He sighed, putting his face in his hands and growling in frustration.

"You're lucky you're not human," he continued, words muffled in his hands, "you don't have to worry about crap like this."

Meg snorted, giving him an almost offended look. "I used to be human," she retorted, standing and walking briskly away, "sometimes I even almost remember what it felt like."

"I'm sorry," Jimmy offered sincerely, feeling like a bit of an asshole. He'd never really stopped to consider where demons came from. Scripture varied on what they were; fallen angels or sometimes twisted human souls. He knew now through Castiel that fallen angels didn't always fall so far as to become patrons of Hell - more often it seemed they took the middle ground with humanity. Souls corrupted by torment in Hell, however...

Meg gave him a seething look from across the room, a glass of amber liquid now in hand as she tossed a haughty smirk at him. "Don't you go getting all sentimental, Jimbo. I don't need pity."

Jimmy scowled in return, ready to dish out a response when the door swung open, Sam and Dean Winchester blowing into the room like twin cyclones laden with gear and plastic bags.

Dean stopped in mid-track, staring at Jimmy a little apprehensively, as though not quite sure how to address him. After a moment looking him up and down, glancing sideways at Meg before settling back on the other man, he shook his head and proceeded to the table. "Sleeping Beauty's awake, I see..."

"Sorry for the scare," Jimmy offered back, nodding a greeting at Sam as the younger Winchester approached him with compassion in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Sam probed, setting his bags and parcels down on the floor in a neat pile.

"Like I got shot out of a cannon into a pile of bricks," Jimmy responded cordially, a weak grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

Dean chuckled softly, but there wasn't much humor in it. The elder hunter took the unspoken affirmation that the angel was still MIA, and given what had happened the previous night, that he probably wasn't going to be back. Jimmy looked like warmed over dog crap run down ten miles of bad road, and it seemed like too much to hope for after everything that things would just snap back to the way they should be after last night. Everything was so freakin' convoluted, and it seemed like his friend was gone-for-good-gone this time. Which was messed up, because Jimmy was kind of his friend, too, and he'd been wearing that suit a lot longer than Cas had. But then, there was still the possibility, crazy as it was, that Cas was still there and had been all along, but that line just hurt Dean's brain, so he dismissed it.

"You need anything?" Sam asked in his bleeding heart tone.

"Yeah, actually," Jimmy said, "I'm starving. I don't suppose room service is out of the question?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, alarm bells immediately going off in the back of his head. Over the last few weeks, 'Jimmy' had gone through the motions, but hadn't really expressed much of an interest in food aside from when it was put in front of him. It had been completely different from the time before, when the wirey little guy had put away something like ten cheeseburgers in one sitting after just a year of Cas riding him around like a shiny new bicycle.

"Yeah, sure," Dean shrugged offhandedly, trying to play it nonchalant, "knock yourself out."

Sam handed him the phone and menu from the desk and Jimmy immediately set about ordering what seemed like one of everything.

Dean caught his brother's eye and motioned with his head toward the bedroom, indicating for the young sasquatch to follow before heading toward the door. Once they were both on the other side, closed off from the main room, Dean sighed, running his fingers over his stubbled jaw, locking eyes with his brother.

"Something happened to him," Sam confirmed the unspoken question between them, "to Cas."

Dean nodded, his jaw clenching reflexively in apprehension. "That's just great. Awesome. So if he's _not _Cas, and Feathers has flown the coop, how the hell're we gonna know which Dick to stick?"

"I dunno Dean," the younger Winchester replied, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, "I guess we're gonna just have to wing it."

"We've only got one shot at this, Sam. No reloads, and we don't exactly have the time or resources to make a back-up plan."

"I know that, but what else can we do? We've been up against worse crap before."

"Yeah, well," Dean huffed, pointedly not looking at his brother, "the fate of the world didn't exactly hang in the balance back then."

Sam choked out a disbelieving laugh at Dean, his eyebrows drawn together and a disbelieving smirk resting on his lips.

"Seriously?" he reproached. "Phoenix ash, saying 'yes' to Lucifer, trapping Death... how are those not insane ideas that might or might not have worked to save the world?"

Dean crossed his arms, pulling a face at his brother as he nodded. "All right, so I guess we have pulled some pretty stupid shit before. So what do you suggest, then?"

Sam thought about it long and hard for a moment, going over the possibilities in his head.

"Do we have the building schematics?" he asked, as a light went off in his head. "I need to look at everything, wiring, pipe layouts, sprinkler systems, water reserves, sewage outlets..."

"Woah woah woah," Dean held up his hands, giving his brother his most seriously serious look, "I am _not _going spelunking this time."

Sam gave him a withering looking, exhaling harshly and blowing a strand of hair out of his face. "Do we have it or not?"

Dean rolled his eys, heading for the door. "I'll check with Meg. What're you thinkin', Sammy?"

The younger Winchester just smiled smugly up at his brother. "How much Borax you think we can get our hands on in the next couple of hours?"


End file.
